


Searching for Levi

by blessende



Series: Searching for Levi [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Action/Adventure, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Coming of Age, Desperate Husbands, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Friendship, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, Marriage, Masked Hero, Meta Poetry, News Media, Parallel world, Romance, Social Commentary, Vigilante! Levi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 02:36:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 106
Words: 388,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14010318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessende/pseuds/blessende
Summary: Eren Jaeger has three secrets that no one knows about. A. There is a parallel world to ours, a world better known as 'Titan'. B. He has been a peacekeeper between the two worlds since the age of fifteen. C. He is married to the greatest prick in the history of the two civilizations.





	1. Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Searching for Levi - Buscando a Levi](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9566153) by [blessende](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessende/pseuds/blessende), [marukusanagi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marukusanagi/pseuds/marukusanagi)



 

 

 

Earth

2013

 

 

Chapter-1- Promise

~.~

 

'Assignments are due by the twenty sixth, folks. Merci beaucoup,' he heard someone say, French accent sounding thick. A hand tugged at his sleeve, trying to stir him awake. _Not yet,_ Eren growled, and swatted it away. There was a faint drumming in his head: memories and sensations from a different time, a different place that weren't as easy to ignore. When he felt a poke in his ribs, Eren buried his brown hair under an elbow, inching away from the intrusive hand.

Twenty sixth, he mumbled in his sleep. Twenty sixth...

Why did that sound all too familiar?

Of all the dates in the calendar, what’s so important about this one?

His subconscious delved deeper into the shelves of memory, searching for a conversation to connect with. He remembered a figure leaning against the kitchen cabinet, drinking tea and holding up the cup by its rim. It was one of his quirks, Eren knew. One of his many quirks that Eren had found endearing and among the easier ones to endure.

'Six months,' the older had said. 'You'll be gone for six months again.'

Yes, he remembered now... for there was forever a frown placed on those sullen lips.

'Admit it,' Eren had teased back, his voice brimming with laughter. 'You're going to miss me,' he stated more than said, his turquoise green eyes lighting up in amusement.

'Miss you?' the man echoed, scratching his chin and gave Eren a frown. 'Good riddance is all I'm thinking. I won't have to share my bed with a clumsy oaf, won't have to endure your god-awful breath in the morning. Or your lame-ass cooking. I'm looking forward to the next six months, thank you very much,' the older spoke dryly, eyeing the curtains as if he wanted the mauve fabric to spontaneously combust.

Eren paused, considering his partner in the silence. Three years and they could read each other without speaking. Three years, and there were still words unsaid. Still, he understood the frustration ebbing behind the mask. Nodding, Eren left his spot on the counter and walked over to the man. He caught hold of the cup and pulled it away from morose lips. He lowered his head to place a kiss on them instead.

There was a grunt in reply... but there were no protests. A hand reached around to clasp his neck, callous fingers wrapping around his nape. Eren tasted the remnants of tea in that warm mouth: a sliver of lemon and that funny herb of this other world.

Iquan.

Eren pulled back to meet the man’s gaze.

'October twenty sixth, _my_ time. I'll be here,' Eren reminded him. He nipped between words, relishing in the taste of tea and the mouth, holding storm grey eyes in his line of sight.

'Is that a fucking promise?' the man asked, looking cross.

'Yeah,' Eren smiled. 'It's a promise.'

 _Promise,_ Eren mumbled in his sleep.

His eyes snapped open.

'Shit! The twenty sixth!' he bellowed, sitting up in alarm.

His outburst didn’t go unnoticed. Hair dishevelled, eyes bleary and bloodshot, the brunet blinked and realised where exactly he was. Thirty odd pair of eyes were fixed on him in the amphitheatre classroom. Make that thirty-one, if you counted the fruity assistant professor who taught them the class ‘Advanced Mechanics’. A deafening silence met his ears, and he saw Connie struggling to hold in his snickers. Jean Kirstein, the ashbrown numbskull, turned in his third-row seat and flashed Eren a thumbs-up. _Good work, suicidal idiot,_ he mouthed at Eren. Oh, the smug little bastard had another thing coming; Eren resisted the urge to flash his middle finger back at horseface.

No, he ought to be worried about other things now.

Like his professor who didn’t look too pleased about Eren’s outburst.

The man snapped a chalk into two, looking clearly annoyed.

 _Fuck... I am doomed_ , Eren thought. _Doomed like Gollum falling into Mount Doom._

Nerd jokes.

Right, so not the time for it.

The brunet felt an elbow nudge him and discovered Armin sitting beside him. His best friend looked just as exasperated with him as their professor.  'Great going, doofus,’ Armin hissed at him. ‘I've been trying to wake you up for the last hour,' the blond said, pointing furiously at the clock over the black board. 'And you decide to return to the land of the living _now_ , three minutes from the bell. You’ve got everyone mad now,’ Armin nudged him to the front of class. ‘You better apologise to Prof. Jacques.’

Eren turned his attention back to the class, smiling sheepishly at all of them.

'Uh, sorry?' he offered.

The professor, for one, wasn't the least bit amused.

'Mr Jaeger, thank you for the reminder. And yes, since you asked so politely, the assignment _is_ due on the twenty sixth. I hope you don’t have a problem with the deadline,' remarked the man, glaring at Eren through his pince nez. “Do you?”

'No, uh, of course not, sir.'

'Good. You may get away with absenteeism and sleeping in my class, Mr Jaeger but you can't weasel out of my assignments. You hear me?'

'Yes, sir!' replied Eren, though wincing inwardly.

The professor collected his papers and shooting one last glare at Eren, the man left the final year classroom in a huff. The other students turned and gave Eren looks of disbelief before beginning their turn to shuffle out. Eren heard them muttering under their breaths about what a pain-in-the-ass Jaeger was. _Always sleeping in class, who the hell did the idiot think he was?_ Eren sank back into his seat. He pressed the bridge of his nose and cursed under his breath. He didn’t blame them; he'd dozed off in class. Again. It was the third time this week.

Ever the compassionate friend, Armin passed him his notes.

The brunet glanced down at the papers, scribed neatly in Armin’s handwriting, diagrams labelled with care, texts highlighted, and bullet points included for what Armin liked to call ‘maximum scoring’. He felt a pang of guilt. He pushed the notes back to his best friend and shook his head resolutely.

'No, Armin. I won't sponge on you this time.”

Armin raised an eyebrow.

‘You sure?’ the blond asked.

Eren nodded.

‘Yeah... I will pull an all-nighter if I have to. I’ll get it done.'

Armin smiled at his determination.

'So, what's special about the twenty-sixth?' his best friend asked, as they left the classroom together.

Eren let slip a small smile.

'Oh, I'm going home.'

 

 

 

 

**Titan World- a snapshot**

 

Titan— A planet in the galaxy Andromeda, 2.5 million light years from Earth, revolving around a dwarf sun in the later stages of its life cycle. It is three times the size of Earth's moon. Greenish in colour due to its thick atmosphere of methane, ethane clouds, nitrogen and the bare minimum of oxygen needed for survival. Not to be confused with Titan, Saturn's moon but the two have a resemblance.

Water— No presence of liquid water on surface. All water is drilled from Titan's underground layer through aqueducts and water rigs. There are no oceans and seas as we know it. There are hydrocarbon lakes, which fuel Titan's scientific development and progress.

Bubble Cities— Skyscraper cities which house sixty percent of Titan's population. Weather controlled, self-sustained by the floating plantations. Administration setup has a mayor for every city as proxy, but all laws passed by the central Military State headed by Darius Zachlay. Some prominent cities: Sina, Trost, Stonehess, Utgard, Ulkridge, Monroe.

Subpar— The terrain outside the bubble cities are barren, though clusters of habitation have formed in pockets. These clusters are outside State jurisdiction. The gender ratio is warped in Titan, especially in subpar regions, favouring the male child. 1000:762. Population is floating, comprising of illegals, rejects, State-outcats, and the index of crime is higher in the subpars. There is no presence of Titan's Army wings- PeaceCorp and Military Police here. But members of MP are often spotted to be visiting for investigation leads, pleasure and leisure. Some of these Subpars- Shiganshina, Belemoth, Maria.

Time— There are twenty hours in a day. Dials on every clock range from hours one to ten. Dwarf sun rises in the east at six in the morning and sets by two.

Temperature— Temperatures vary from mild hot to extreme cold depending on the location. Bubble cities have been granted an artificial sun, but the subpar regions face the brunt of extreme temperatures.

Physical terrain— Cryovolcanoes, Hydrocarbon lakes, Craters, Desert land, Floating Plantations and sporadic aquifiers (oasis). Like the water cycle on Earth, Titan has a methane cycle. pH is on the lower side; pH=5. Rain is acidic 97% of the time. The Titans have learned to navigate around these weather elements.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written in 2013-2014 on FF.net and taken down once completed. Excuse the old name: 'Rivaille Levi', since 'Ackerman' wasn't yet introduced at that point of time. 
> 
> There are one shots pertaining to the eight years prior to the chronology of Searching for Levi. You can find them @ https://archiveofourown.org/series/971403


	2. Names

 

 

 

Chapter-2- Names

~.~

With a backpack rolled onto one shoulder, Eren Jaeger placed two mugs of malt on the table and flopped down into a chair beside the hospital bed. He inhaled, breathing in reluctantly the various smells of the hospital. It wasn't often when Eren could keep quiet… but at Stanley Memorial, the gloominess of the empty beds seemed to always render him silent. His mother was knitting a sweater, perhaps in preparation for the winter to come. Eren traced the ends of the wool as they cascaded down the comforter and rolled under the cot. The colors of grey and black pooled together until branching off into two pachyderm balls hiding in the recess. He was suddenly struck by a memory of how he used to hide, hide in a cramped little space just like this one. Away from prying eyes, away from his mother. Especially when he had stolen her bake-sale cookies and his mother would storm through the house, trying to find him. Like a she-dragon.

_'Eren, come out right now! Come out, my little punk!'_

Eren would hide under the bed, hands clamped over his mouth, struggling to hold back his laughter. But no matter how much he tried to hide, Carla Jaeger would always find him. She’d wrap her arms around him tight, draw him out of hiding, her shoulders shaking with laughter. Her apron always smelled of flour, gingerbread and roses. The scent of home and a whole meal. Not this god-awful smell of bleach and drugs.

How old was he back then?

Six?

Seven?

In a way, he was always causing trouble for her.

He tried not to acknowledge it, how he missed that she-dragon.

'You're awfully quiet today, Eren,' his mother said, her hand curling with ease over a string and spinning it into a small loop. Today, her voice wasn't slurred from medication. It resembled the susurrus of the oaks outside, calm and patient even in a tempest. It wasn't the delusion speaking. Just her. His mother. And it felt like years since he'd heard her calling his name. His comrades called him 'Jaeger'; close pals nicknamed him 'Jaegermeister' for kicks; ticked-off professors tended to address him as 'Mr. Jaeger'. (And considering his track record, there were _alwa_ ys a couple of professors ticked-off with him every semester.)

Armin, Connie and Sasha were the friends who called him right.

'Eren' but there was no soft inflection to it.

Not the way his mother called him.

Or— Eren’s eyes softened, and he hid a smile— yeah, that one other guy.

The guy a million light years away and apparently not missing Eren in the least.

'Eren,' his mother caught his wrist, pressing lightly. 'I'm speaking to you, son. You there?'

The young man blinked, sitting up in his seat.

'Sorry... Sorry, I was just thinking,' Eren mumbled, grabbing his mug absentmindedly. He took a measured sip of the malt. The chocolate was bitter to his taste, and he realized he'd missed putting in the sugar.

'Darn,' Eren grumbled, pulling a face at his concoction. 'Forgot to put in the—'

Carla caught his sleeve and held it, giving him a reassuring smile.

'It's alright. Just stay here...' his mother insisted. 'I'm afraid visiting hours will be over soon anyway.'

There was a strained silence; Eren let his shoulders sag, his gaze locking on the wall.

Visiting hours.

 _Right._ He'd almost forgotten about that.

His mother broke the silence with a sigh as if the subject of visiting hours was one they could do without. She pulled at her strings and tried to change the subject.

'How are your classes? It's the final term, isn't it?'

Eren gave a half-shrug and stretched his legs out under him. 

'You should ask Armin,' he said with a wink. 'He is the one pulling our weights through.'

Carla stopped knitting long enough to study him. The needles were set aside, her attention all on Eren now.

'Is that so?' she asked.

'Uh huh,' Eren nodded with his face lit up. The young man rummaged through his backpack and got out a book titled ‘Irodov's Problems in Physics’. ‘I mean it, mom,’ he told her, holding out his textbook with enthusiasm, almost beaming at her. ‘Take a look at this. There are at least a zillion problems listed here... and Armin's got the entire book solved out. No kidding. He is an effing prodigy, I swear.'

His mother smiled warmly at him, her eyes flickering from the book to her son.

'Armin was always a good student,' she said and returned to her knitting. She picked up her needles, doing another tuck and wound of the wool. 'He visits me often, you know... bringing flowers and company. He reads books to me when _you_ aren't around. Just like his grandfather. He's a chip off the old block.'

Eren's shoulders slacked, and he gauged his mother in silence. He didn’t know if it was just his imagination, but he detected the hint of disappointment in her voice.

'Mom?'

She looked at him.

'Do you hate me?' he asked her at long last.

Carla's nose crinkled and she shook her head.

'Of course, I don't hate you, son. I just want you to be... safe,' she paused, looking over him uncertainly. 'You're not being a troublemaker, are you? Hannes doesn't visit as much as he used to. He vouched for you before, but now I can't help worrying if everything is alright.'

Eren rolled his eyes.

'Christ, I’m not fifteen anymore, mom. I don't need a watcher. I’m doing fine, _trust_ me!'

Carla watched him evenly, her expression furrowed.

'Sometimes, I get the feeling you are not telling me something.'

And there it was: the opening gambit, the part where he could own up to the truth and come clean. The part where he could tell her that he wasn't really enrolled into a military academy nor was he spending his six months cooped up in barracks. The part about his father and his true origins. Would she believe him? Would _anyone_ believe that this world wasn't all there was to it? That there was another place faraway... which had the resources to cure what people here called an incurable disease?

Aged hands stilled, and his mother's brown eyes drew him, still waiting for his answer. Sometimes he wondered... if she knew already.

Maybe she did.

Eren remembered the words of his oath, which he'd spoken in a gallery with his right fist placed upon his heart.

A peacekeeper, bound to serve and protect till death.

Honorable, loyal and to live for others before self.

He hated that stupid oath.

Goddam Titan.

 

 

 

 

 

Visiting hours were over, and his mother’s nurse Robbins arrived promptly to kick him out.

Not surprising since the college student always tried to overstay his visit.

Eren sat on a bench just outside the hospital. He sat under the parking lot's light, papers sprawled over the length of the planks. He dug a pen under his chin, reviewing the scrawl of his writing. Illegible, all of it. He wished he'd taken up Armin's offer but oh no, he had to choose the high moral ground, didn’t he? And of course by saying no to Armin’s cheat sheets, Eren was now stuck trying to decipher his own notes and puny diagrams, which looked akin to drunken sonnets put down by a sailor who had one drink too many.

He hated himself sometimes.

The boy wrinkled his nose and after a long struggle with his assignment, he snapped the book shut. He wondered if this would have been easier if he didn't sleep in class so much.

Why couldn't he stay awake in class anyway?

 _'Why, you ask?_ ' said a new voice, forming from the dregs of memories. _'Because all work and no play makes Eren a dull boy_ ,' chimed the voice in his head. A voice that was sure to be accompanied by grey eyes filled with amusement.

Eren bit back a smile.

True but that wasn't the answer, wise-guy.

It was because all his nights were spent on vigils. He wondered for a moment how Annie did it. Leonhart was older than him, an adept peacekeeper though ruthless at times. Having manned the gates with her for four years, Eren still couldn't figure out anything about the ice queen. His first impression of Annie remained true. The blonde had a queer sense of humor and didn't look like she cared about much. But he'd never tell it to her face. Not really, unless he was looking for a punch or a scathing taunt. But despite her terrible personality, Annie's skills as a soldier redeemed her. Annie Leonhart was the best at sparring in their entire squadron; Eren knew first-hand the damage the woman could inflict. There was much to be admired in her, true. But what was she like in the real world? To people who knew her?

They hadn't shared much on the personal front. She had a dad, he remembered.

Was he still around?

Eren didn't know.

But unlike Eren, so very much _unlike_ him, Annie wasn't attached to the world of Titan.

She hated the place, despised its very existence... and Eren wondered if it had something to do with her live-in partner.

There had been a rumor in the Corps that Annie had committed herself to a civilian on Earth. No one knew who the mystery man was. No one dared _ask._

The night grew chilly, and he was suddenly very glad for his parka. Eren pulled the hood over and flopped down against the back of the bench, staring at the moon in the cloudless sky. He stretched his arms out and rubbed the base of his neck thoughtfully.

And like a bolt out of the blue, his watch started ringing.

Of course, it wasn't just a watch.

Eren raised his wrist in surprise. He pressed the green button on its side and heard the familiar automated voice of Gale ring out.

'Suspicious activity observed on Gate 23, Avalon.'

Eren's eyebrows furrowed into a crease. He grabbed his things and stashed them into his backpack hastily.

'Okay, I'm on it!' he said to Gale.

 

* * *

 


	3. Gateway

 

 

 

 

Chapter-3- Gateway

~.~

He’d been to the Avalon gates before. It was close, somewhere in the fifteen-mile radius, which is why the distress signal came to him first. The network alerted the closest keepers in the vicinity and apparently... today was his lucky day. _Yes, finally some action! About time!_ Eren reached the corner of St. Chamberlain's Chapel, his eyes remaining glued to his beeping wrist watch. 'Here?' he thought as he approached the perimeter of the church. 'That can’t be right. There’s no one here. Wait—' he thought, giving his watch a frantic look. ‘Gale, can you hear me? Am I way off the mark?'

He didn’t wait for the walk sign to come on and sprinted across the road. A mistake. A car came out of nowhere, blaring its horn. Eren darted out of its path, just in the nick of time. He heard the Ford's tires screech as it turned around the curb and sped off into the darkness.

_Yikes. That was a close call._

Eren kept his head low and sneaked up to the wall.

He heard a screech and when he looked up, he saw a flare go up. _Distress signal. That’s not good._ Eren caught sight of the trail of yellow smoke, rising higher and higher above the turret of St. Chamberlain's statue. Someone had reached the place before him. And whoever it was... they were asking for help.

To use a flare risked civilian notice.

To use a flare, you really had to be desperate.

That didn't sound good.

Eren put on his gear: his straps and the cables, and he scaled up the church wall, hoisting himself over it nimbly. He ducked into the yews of the yard and joined the shadows of the church, keeping a stealthy watch on his surroundings. He scanned the place and decided for a vantage point high on an elder tree—the tallest in the woodland— he dived behind its trunk. Here, he stopped to catch his breath. So far, so good. Eren thought, gliding up the tree with the aid of his gear; he perched himself on a stout branch and began drawing out the rest of his equipment from the bag. The young peacekeeper took off his parka. Biting his lip, he slipped a knife into his combat boot and felt the surge of adrenalin in his system.

Oh, he knew this feeling.

Glorious.

The thrill of imminent battle.

 _Keep your head cool, cadet,_ said the voice in his head. _Don't get too excited._

His heart wasn't keen on listening. On retrospect, it had never been a good listener, having fallen for that arrogant, foul mouthed guardian of his. Concentrate, Eren told himself.

He put his mind to the task at hand. This wasn't the first time there had been a breach, and history proved that it wouldn't be the last time. _You've done this a hundred times before,_ Eren gave himself the pep talk, stashing all his other stuff back into his backpack. He glanced at the book of Irodov, a grimace flitting over his lips. _Shit._ _Guess, Advanced Mechanics will have to wait till tomorrow._

That is, if he survived.

 _You better fucking survive_ , went the familiar voice in his head.

Eren gritted his teeth. _Don't worry, I will_... he said to the nameless voice and holding his zircon hilt ready, the boy leaped and went spiralling down into the woods.

 

 

 

 

The gate flickered into view, an undercurrent of sparks let loose every time it appeared out of the void. It was a wide arch, a hole in space-time continuum. It radiated a pulsating form of energy, having taken the form of a black vortex. It stood tall at fifteen meters and a width of nine arms. Ordinarily, they’d be invisible to the naked eye. The gates didn’t show themselves, not unless Titan's engineers meant them to. Or if someone had broken through the barriers forcibly.

Eren discovered who that someone was.

A creature of black stood in the clearing. Armoured sleek from head to toe, the interloper was a giant hunk of metal and muscle. Currents convulsed around it, engulfing it in a whirl of electric fields. Humanoid but shaped like a metal hanger gone awry. The thing hovered over a person, its scalpel arm reaching for their head.

He recognized the parka and the familiar emblem of the PeaceCorps on its back.

Eren caught sight of her: her blonde hair and slanted blue eyes.

Shit.

Annie.

Leonhart was propped against the trunk of a tree, her eyes barely open. Blood trickled from her scalp, staining locks of her hair red. Her legs had given out under her and to make matters worse, she was unarmed. Eren noticed her blade on the ground, broken into splinters. The zirconium shards glistened in the moonlight. What the hell was this monster that attacked her? Had it come from the other side? An invader?

Eren did the only thing he could think of.

He picked up a pebble and threw it at the giant's back.

He could imagine setting off the voice in his head.

_Seriously, sunshine? After all the years I spent mentoring you, your best offense is this? Throwing a rock?_

Eren grimaced and shrugged mildly. _Hey, it did the work, right?_

And in the end, that was all that mattered.

The hunk of metal turned its attention on Eren, though its scalpel hand remained hovering over Annie.

'Yo shitface!' Eren called, deciding to stir the beast within and outside him. He stared up at the alien machine, putting on the best menacing look he could come up with. 'You, giant overgrown birdbrain! Hey, look at me! LOOK at ME!' he taunted it, employing some of the colourful language he'd come to learn in the few years of marital bliss. 'How dare you fucking mess with Annie ‘IceQueen’ Leonhart? I am going to make you cry tears of blood…' he promised, drawing out his hilt and extending the blades from them.

* * *

 


	4. Voice

 

 

 

Chapter-4- Voice

~.~

There were two mistakes that he made tonight. First was taunting the opponent, which made the beast livid with fury. The other was to believe he could fare better in a fight with a half-giant when even Annie _slash_ Jujutsu _slash_ 'I'm going to kick your ass to tomorrow' Leonhart couldn't. His zirconium blades were rendered useless against its metal skin and the best he could do, was to salvage them and protect them from being broken like Annie's. Which meant keeping a firm hold on his weapons, deflecting his opponent’s attack and sharpening his reflexes, exactly those attributes for which he'd been marked an utter zero in training. He could imagine the look of disappointment on the face of Keith Shadis.

But Eren tried.

Because if there was one thing he was good at, it was trying and giving his goddam all.

Others called him _'a suicidal bastard'_ so hell, he wasn't going down without a fight.

Eren leapt over the thing's head, landing on its neck. He struggled for balance but keeping himself tethered to the invader's back, he searched for a weakness. Its Achilles heel. _C’mon, c’mon, where is your circuit? How do I shut you down?_ He discerned something in its nape. There were wires exposed, ribbed like human veins. Eren made a split-second decision to cut through them. It was his third mistake of the day... for when he jabbed his blade through, he got caught in the field and a jolt of electric current sizzled through the zirconium. It travelled the length of his blade and into his arm, his shirt catching fire. Eren gave a painful hiss and relinquished his hold on the Titan. He fell back with a pained groan, landing on the grass of the churchyard.

Eren squeezed his eyes shut, as his body convulsed. His shirt smoked, and his skin seared with red, blinding pain.

_Okay, this looks bad._

The hunk of metal swirled on its spot and considered the fallen soldier.

This time when the Titan swung its heavy arm, he couldn't move fast enough. The blow struck him across the chest and sent him skidding back into a tree. His head connected with wood, and the realms of unconsciousness swallowed him whole.

Eren fell into a state of darkness.

It was more peaceful here, he realised as his eyes slumped close. His body ached all over, bruised from the fall, and he could still feel the burning pain in his right arm. But he felt oddly peaceful. The last thing he heard was the cicadas of the forest, the insects sounding agitated by the war between man and machine.

Tired. He was dreadfully tired.

After all, he was only human.

_'Eren.'_

There was a voice in his ears. He knew that voice. Husky, warm with a tinge of annoyance and everything more. It was gentle and compelling to listen to.

 _'Get up, Eren_ ,' urged the stranger in his head.

Eren grimaced.

I don't want to.

_'Come on, brat. Wake up.'_

No... Eren scowled. This is easier, don't you get it? Giving up. I'm so sick of fighting. And fucking tired. I've been doing this for years, you know.

' _What about the world, Eren? Don't you want to protect it? What of your people? Are you going to desert them?'_

Eren didn't answer.

_'Didn't you promise me oceans, skies and snow-covered mountains?'_

Something wet trickled down his cheeks. Eren tasted salt and wondered if it were from tears or blood. In a way, it didn't matter.

 _'Didn't you promise me?'_ prompted the voice.

Yeah... I did.

_'Were those empty words?'_

No.

 _'You don't have to fight but you can't be a sitting duck either. On your feet, trooper. It's an order_.'

Eren remained silent, and a wistful smile unfolded on his lips.

Hey. When was the last time you called me that, he wanted to ask the man.

Eren inhaled deep, knowing it was futile.

Heck, when was the last time we even spoke? It feels like ages.

He felt lean, agile fingers slip around his head. It felt almost real. A forehead pressed against his sweaty one; the touch of lips nuzzled against his ear.

 _'Then, come home. Come home to me, Eren,_ ' the voice said. _'But first, protect the world you hold so dear. Protect the people for whom you've left me behind.'_

Eren's turquoise green eyes snapped open. The sky was a dark hue of blue. There were dots in his vision, which he mistook for stars. Then again, there were stars overhead as well. Celestial bodies that people said determined your fates. He could see the corners of Orion, that mystic hunter of the sky. He could see the Pleiades sisters too. His hands were slippery from sweat but Eren got to his feet, wincing from the numbness that travelled up his burnt arm.

'Jaeger, you idiot,' he heard Annie mumble under her breath. 'Can't you... stay down?'

The woman was right.

He really couldn't stay down.

Not with that voice in his head, urging him on.

The Armoured Titan had left him for the dead and stepped back to the gateway. It detected the change in his pulse and turned, craning its neck towards him. It looked at Eren as he stood up, and recognising him as a renewed threat, the Titan marched towards him, breaking into a run. Eren had not expected it to be able to run, much less at this velocity, which defied all laws of physics. Heck, even Irodov would have been left baffled.

Eren tapped his hilt again and crossed his blades, staying put, his eyes— pools of bloodlust— narrowing in concentration.

Irodov.

Wait, what would that old geezer have done in his situation?

Here he was, facing off a hundred-tonne hunk of metal.

The gates lay compromised behind it, shifting in and out of view. He was sure the barrier was broken for good.

_You don't have to fight._

Eren's eyes widened just as the armoured titan drew out its scalpel arm. Of course, the power source of the Titan was the gate.

The gate, huh?

If Eren was right, even a smidgen right in his theory, all he had to do was destroy the gate and let the machine invader be pulled back into the void as it collapsed. The gate would be lost forever and no doubt, there would be hell later on, explaining this loss to the Titan State.

Decisions, decisions.

Eren's attention flickered over to Annie who was looking at him, her blue eyes holding his gaze.

Wouldn’t she have done the same?

Eren smiled as the armoured Titan hunkered down and reached him. It had expected him to meet its scalpel arm with his extended blade. But Eren dodged it entirely, hurling himself forward between its feet and slipping past its beastly legs, Eren passed its form and slammed his blades into the two corners of the arch instead.

There was an ear-splitting crack, and the armoured beast turned to the gates, bracing itself. Before it could hold its ground, the gateway exploded with a bang. The void began sucking in everything around them. The black Titan made a last valiant attempt at pulling Eren with it... but the boy ducked out of reach and slithered from its grasp, until all it could do was snap at thin air.

Eren stared at the machine, meeting its gaze boldly, a strange mad light forming in his green eyes.

'Say goodbye to this side of the universe, pal,' sneered Eren. ‘Hope you enjoyed your stay!’

The gateway gave one last jolt of current and consumed the invader whole, pulling it back in. Gateway 23 let out a final shudder before collapsing upon itself and decimating into rubble.

Eren watched the gate fall in amazement. There was a drumming in his head again, and despite the thrill raking through his nerves, he was glad to hear his heart beating somewhere.

He was glad to be still alive.

And effing glad to have kept his promise.

 

 

 

* * *

 


	5. Comrade

 

 

Chapter-5- Comrade

~.~

The chill of October was strangely comforting. Cool dampness clung to his back; he felt the grease and stickiness of sweat in his hair, and as he staggered his way back to Annie, Eren Jaeger was also aware of a dull ache in his arm. He was afraid to peel away the charred sleeve and look at the damage he'd suffered. He was afraid of the consequences of losing a good arm, especially when he was still in college, a student struggling to eke out a passing grade. Besides this was hardly the time. Leonhart seemed to be in excruciating pain. He knelt before the blonde woman and watched her take shallow breaths. In and out. In and out... the faint signs of the living. Her eyes fluttered underneath their heavy lids.

Eren checked for her pulse.

Yeah, still there.

Slow, languid. Not at all like the Annie that he knew. If only he'd hesitated less and turned up sooner.

Eren pulled back a little and looked at his wristwatch. He pressed a red button and switched on the comm. The emotionless voice of Gale greeted him, filling the silence of the yews in the churchyard.

Eren swept a hand over his messy forehead.

'SOS! I need medics at Gate 23. One keeper down, second injured,' Eren reported breathlessly.

There was a buzz as Gale tried switching routers.

'Unable to connect,' was the response on the comm.

_What the hell?_

Eren frowned.

'How about the Titan emergency response team? Erd, Oluo, Petra... anyone?'

The line went quiet. He couldn't even hear the static.

'Unable to connect,' announced Gale a second time.

'Tier 2. Hanji, Moblit, Mike... Dammit, is no one there?'

A tense silence followed, and Gale returned the same answer.

Nothing.

Eren ran his good hand over the bridge of his nose, trying to think. He scrunched up his eyes.

'Tier 3 support,' he said, his voice breaking. 'Levi... Rivaille Levi. Please... Please answer.'

His plea went unheard.

'Unable to connect,' replied the network in the same callous voice.

The brown-haired keeper bit back a scowl and looked at Annie _. No, this isn’t right._ He'd lost precious time in trying to establish contact. They were on their own, he decided. Without wasting another breath, he took Leonhart's arm and began rolling her over his left shoulder, the one that didn’t hurt like a blizzard.

It was cool, he thought. They could survive this. No, they would survive this, Eren vowed in the silence.

 

 

 

He'd heard people say this before. That sheer grit and determination could order miracles and was enough to move mountains. Eren heaved as they left the Avalon gates, with him struggling under the added burden of one more. He was pretty sure Annie counted as a mountain. A freakin' Mount Everest. Maybe even an effin' Kilimanjaro.

'Dammit Annie, you could have laid off the muscle training for a bit. Or that extra potato at lunch.'

The woman on his back did not stir.

If Annie was not replying to insults, she must be out cold.

Not a good sign.

As Eren walked along the street, slipping in and out of shadows, he began to entertain doubts. What was that thing that had attacked them? Sure, there had been gateway breaches before. A scout, an aberrant droid or maybe even a friendly on this side. But never in these last eight years had he come across a full armoured Titan of that size! He needed to inform headquarters. That is, as soon as he could make Gale connect to the other side.

What the heck was wrong with Gale in the first place?

'Hey Jaeger,' a voice spoke up near his ears.

Annie had regained consciousness. Relief flooded Eren, and the peacekeeper smiled at his comrade.

“You awake, ice queen?”

But Annie didn't return his greeting.

'Where... are we going?' she asked, wincing with each word that she uttered.

Eren strengthened his hold on her and quickened his pace.

'To a hospital. I can't connect to Titan. We have to settle with the aid here, Annie. Stanley Memorial Hospital— it's just... around the corner. Hang on, okay?' Eren said, forcing himself into a sprint.

'Jaeger... Are you an idiot?' asked Annie.

Eren stopped, looking at her askance. She was staring at him with those soul-unravelling blue eyes of hers. But this time, they looked furious with him.

He managed another dopey smile.

'An idiot, huh? You sure you wanna call me that, ice queen? After I just saved your life?'

'But you _are_ an idiot, Eren,' Annie said. 'If you take me to a hospital, there will be questions asked. What are you planning on telling the doctors?' she hissed. 'That we got run over by a car? That we got mugged in an alley? Look at us, Jaeger. Look at the equipment in our bags. No one will believe a word you say.'

Eren stopped running, slowing to a walk.

'Does it matter, Annie? Do you want to bleed to death? I don’t care if you have a death wish, but I won't have you dying on me, blondie. Not on my watch.'

There was a silence, and Annie's breathing became shallower, if it were possible.

Eren broke into a sprint again, trying to keep his mind off the searing pain in his right arm.

'Do you care for me that much?' Annie asked after a long moment.

Eren gave a bark of laughter.

'Yeah, we're comrades. We have to watch each other's back, remember?'

'Then, take us across,' came the slow answer.

Eren blinked, stopping.

'What?'

'You have the key, don't you?'

Eren glanced at her.

Annie resumed. 'Gateway 22 is not far, Jaeger. It's a warehouse on the eastside docks. I’ve patrolled it before.'

Annie's arms which had hung limp around his neck, tightened. A veined hand slipped down his chest and rested over the key hidden in the folds of his shirt. She held on intimately, clasping it with her hand on his chest. No one knew about the key. It was strange how Leonhart who insisted on protocol one moment... was asking him to break the very same protocol in the next.

'Let's go to Titan,' Annie told him, her warm breath grazing his ear. 'You're the gatekeeper, aren't you? It's the only way you can save me.'

Titan.

The word incited mixed emotions in Eren.

He ought to be thinking of how he hadn't said his goodbyes yet. Not to his mother, his friends. But all Eren could think of, oddly— was the Advanced Mechanics assignment he'd left on top of an elder tree.

 _Shit_ , that asshat professor was _so_ going to flunk him this time.

 

 

 

* * *

 


	6. Potshots

 

 

Chapter-6- Pot-shots

~.~

 

 

Gateway 22 was still intact, hidden between two warehouses on the docks. Eren slipped into the gap between the buildings, limping his way through cargo boxes. When they reached the end of a long alley, he helped Annie sit up against a large crate (smelly fish packed in ice, waiting to be exported) while he went to work on the gate. He groped around his neck, feeling for the key and pulled it out by its string. The key was fashioned slim, golden with a string tied around its loop. Having it away from his palpitating heart, Eren felt relieved, giving in to a Frodo moment of his own. (Once a nerd, always a nerd, yep.) The weight on his chest felt considerably lightened. It had been a secret, this universal gate key of his. No peacekeeper possessed one like it. No PeaceCorp could traverse worlds like he could. And Leonhart seemed to have caught on. How long had she known he couldn't guess. In any case, there was no point in keeping the secret under wraps now. Not when there was a soldier on the verge of bleeding out.

Eren walked to the centre of the alley’s dead-end and looking at the empty space above his head, he flicked an access switch on his watch.

_Richet_

The gate came into view, its gears turning. The arch made an appearance frame by frame; small lights illuminated its curve.

He saw the padlock on the left and darting over, Eren inserted the key into it.

The truth to the gates was... there was no need for a physical mechanism to secure it. Titan engineers required only an authorization code. Sometimes, this code was supplied wirelessly. Other times, it was embedded in a key. The padlock seemed to be fashioned out of imagery from medieval history books. Eren had often wondered if the lock was some sort of an inside joke between its architects.  

There was a soft click, and the padlock came undone. The gate opened, and a black void opened up, the size similar to the one at Chamberlain's chapel.

Eren turned to Annie. To his surprise, the girl was awake and watching his movements keenly.

'You ready for Mordor?' Eren joked.

Annie gave him a puzzled look.

 

 

 

 

Eren cursed.

One would think he’d be used to it by now. But the void was a nightmare to traverse, even with company.

He hated this part.

The long thirty-minute walk through the interstellar tunnel. As always, it was pitch dark, and the place reeked of helium. An able body could make the five-mile stretch in thirty minutes. But when injured and carrying the weight of two, he wondered how long it would take to get to the other side. Would the gates be closed on the other end? Could he hope of meeting someone there, ready with transport? Someone who can get Annie the medical attention she needed? Would his key be able to force open the gateway if it were closed? What if they’re denied entry? What if they pass out and get stuck here? Stuck in this gothic void forever?

He didn't know.

All Eren could do was hope that the worst scenarios didn't play out.

Ten minutes down, the journey began taking its toll on Eren. Annie’s arms were wound tightly around him, her head perched on his shoulder. He faltered in his steps and came to a stop, kneeling. He tried to keep his mind off his right arm. He couldn't feel it anymore, not even the pain. He placed his left arm over his right and squeezed the elbow.

Nothing.

Shit, nothing at all.

'What's... with your arm?' Annie asked, noticing what he was doing.

'Nothing, never mind,' Eren said, clenching his fingers and standing up again.

He walked on, growing weary with every step, every laboured breath. His lungs were resisting the strain, his heart furious and his head was the worst traitor of all, giving in to moments of missed clarity and fuzziness.

'How far have we got?' the blonde asked.

Eren wished she would stop asking.

'Halfway, I guess,' he managed.

There was a strange pause, and he felt her move for the first time.

'Hey Eren,' said Annie.

'Yeah?' he croaked, surprised to hear Annie call him by his first name.

'Do you like the world of Titan?'

An odd question. And a peculiarly odd time to ask it.

Eren fought the urge to keel over from exhaustion. He smiled despite the effort.

'I can't say I hate it.'

It was the honest truth, after all.

He heard a chuckle. Annie Leonhart's chuckle. Who'd have ever thought the woman could laugh.

'Because of that one guy?' she asked.

'Maybe,' Eren answered, flushing a little. 'Though I heard you've got someone as well. Though it must take Godzilla to warm an icequeen's heart. You know, Annie, I don't think we've ever—' Eren grimaced, stumbling in his steps again. '—had a decent conversation before.'

He heard her laugh. Annie’s laughter that sounded oddly healthy for someone with a head injury.

'I knew it; personal loyalty would be the death of you,' Annie said in a whisper.

Eren shook his head.

'It's not about loyalty, Annie. I trust him.’

‘Trust?’

‘Yeah. More than my life even.'

'More than your life,' echoed the girl, her slanted eyes giving him a sidelong glance. She wrenched her one hand free so quickly it surprised him. The other dipped to his boot and drew out the combat knife he'd hidden there. She pulled back her arm and swiped the blade with the practiced move of a professional, cutting a line across his neck. It happened so quickly Eren didn't have the time to react. He froze and felt the knife dig in to his flesh. Blood splattered, he doubled over, leaving him gasping at her feet.

The silence was still.

Eren spat trails of blood.

'What... the hell, Annie!' he choked, clutching his neck.

Annie Leonhart knelt before him, blue eyes dazzling in the darkness of interstellar space. Strands of her blond hair had come undone from her bun. Some were still streaked red. Red, but Eren noticed for the first time that there was no visible wound on her. In her hand, she held the gate key. His gate key…How?

A smirk graced her lips, and she swung the key in circles by its thread.

All while Eren felt life draining from him.

_This can’t be happening._

Annie reached out with a hand. She ruffled his brown hair— soft, gently until humour gave way to sadism and her calloused hands caught him by his hair and wrenched his head up. 'You trust the Titans, Jaeger?’ she hissed. ‘Then, do me a favour, will you?' she paused, a smile wrecking that beautiful Viking face of hers. 'Go to Trost Repository, third floor. Look up the cabinet titled 'J' and you'll find a file with your name on it. Read it. Read it well. Read it till the words sink in. That is, if you survive this blasted place. Thanks for all your help. We appreciate it.'

 _We?_ Who the fuck was… _we?_

She released him, and he dropped like a ragdoll. From the corner of his eyes, he saw her turn on her heels and walk away, her steps echoing in the void.

 

 

* * *

 


	7. Darkness

 

 

Chapter- 7- Darkness

~.~

 

It’s said that the closer you're to death, the more vulnerable you are to dreaming. Like a self-defence mechanism that kicks in to save you from the pain of actual death. And so, Eren Jaeger dreamed. He dreamed of memories, of people he’d left behind, of a blessed time when the world didn’t weigh down on him. 

'Eren! Hey Eren!'

He heard Armin's frantic voice call for him in his dream.

And there was his best friend, standing before his table where Eren was battling hard with his Fluid dynamics homework. (And losing spectacularly, if he might add). Stupid Bernoulli and his asshat principles. Armin interrupted him, holding up a book with a triumphant smile.

'Eren, look what I found between the self-help and erotica section?'

The boy with the mussy brown hair was forever puzzled by how Armin could delight so much from reading books.

He did a double take. 'Wait, we've got erotica here?’ Eren asked in amazement. ‘In the college library? Hell no!' cut the brunet, looking indignant. 'And you didn't even tell me!'

Armin shrugged in nonchalance and shoved the large leather-bound book before Eren's face. 'Not the point. Tell me you've read this before. Or it's going to be a long day ahead.'

Eren read the title out loud.

'Nope, never heard of it,' he deemed.

And it did turn out to be a long day.

Strange, he couldn't remember the name now. He remembered the poem but not the name. It was there at the tip of his tongue as he tried to retrieve it from the chaos and confusion that was his mind. Something about heaven and hell. Heaven lost? Hell lost? There was a fallen angel called Lucifer. A snake. Milton. Yes... Paradise Lost by Milton, wasn't it? Memories brought forth passages that Armin had recited to him. He remembered that hot, summer day spent in the library's air conditioning, listening halfheartedly to Armin's excitable voice.

 

_Nine times the space that measures day and night._

 

That was how long Lucifer and his crew fell to the pits of hell. And that was how long Eren seemed to be falling into the deeper pits of unconsciousness.

Eren would stir, and the cycle would repeat. This constant battle with lucidness and dreaming. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't even cry or shout for help. The name 'Annie' buzzed with a quiet anger seething inside him. It was that feral spirit of his, keeping him alive and yet consuming him at the same time. It was a gamble; his anger would either liberate Eren or eat him whole.

Leonhart.

Yeah.

Annie _fucking_ Leonhart.

He had carried her all the way. They had been comrades, sworn to honor and duty. How long had they fought side by side?

Eren's breathing became faint as he was reminded of the days they'd spent together. He would tell her a joke and she would barely smile, amused by his attempt at companionship. They would bump into each other in the streets of Sylvan and pretend they were strangers. When night came, they would be sitting shoulder to shoulder, keeping watch over the city. Strangers by day, sentinels by night. 

_Tell me, it wasn't you. Tell me it was your doppelganger._

_Anybody but you, Annie._

But the truth was sinking in. He had been betrayed, left to die in this helium infused rendition of hell. Eren's green eyes opened a little and he tilted his head up, craning for a view of the path ahead. He caught sight of something. Small lights flickering in the shadows up ahead, taunting him like little, dancing imps.

There it was.

The gateway to the world of Titan.

It was just half a mile across.

But Eren couldn't move. There was no point; he didn't possess the key anymore. He'd never get to the other side.

Eren's head fell back to the ground with a light thud, anguish sinking into his very being. He felt the blood trickling down his neck. _Stay awake, stay awake stupid soul of mine. Stay awake._ He brought his left hand up to bite into it, to inject some life into himself. And that's when he noticed the wristwatch. It was strange. So strange. Annie had taken the key but not his comm. link. Why? Had she taken pity on him? Did she shut out the network too? Eren didn't understand what to think of it.

There was a small red light blinking at the watch's corner which meant his comm. was still on, Gale ready at his beck and call. The voice of the network waited for his command.

He tried but the words were painful to form.

_Come on, mouth, speak._

'Connect,' Eren said softly, his voice a mere whisper. '—me to Levi. Rivaille Levi.'

Eren had half expected the reply to be in the negative. That all his energies would be spent waste. But Gale went to work quietly, switching routers, tuning the waves and making the connection. There was a click and a ringing tone. Not more than two rings followed when his call was finally received.

Eren's heart paced hard in his chest, working overtime to control the blood loss.

And there was silence.

The sort of silence he was very used to.

Eren heard the inhale and exhale on the other end, quiet and calm, never any urgency in it. What had hebeen doing right then? Buried under paperwork at HQ? Drinking tea at home? Arranging his file cabinets for the hundredth time? Or... thinking about him?

'Eren?' the voice asked at long last. 'Where are you?'

Blue green eyes slipped close, savoring the voice. A ghost of a smile flitted across his lips.

'Eren. You there?' the voice prompted, trying to stir him back to consciousness. 

'...yeah,' Eren mumbled. 'I'm here.'

And there was a pause.

Eren could imagine the furrow of the eyebrows, and he thought he heard noises in the background. Of a hush spreading over a captive audience.

'Talk to me. Where the hell are you?' demanded Levi.

Where was he?

Eren thought hard, struggling to form lucid answers. But all he remembered were the verses from Armin's book. Verses he’d memorized that afternoon spent with Armin. And as he remembered, Eren began to quote them.

'He views, the dismal situation waste and wild. A dungeon horrible, on all sides round,'

The keeper muttered deliriously, reciting word to word, his eyes rolling into his head.

'Eren,' Levi called, the first trace of panic appearing in the older man's tone. Eren heard other voices speak in the static, footsteps storming down corridors, a warning whistle, protests, someone cursing, and Levi barking an order at someone.

'I don't know what shit you're spouting. But keep talking,' Levi urged.

Eren forced a bitter smile.

'As one great furnace flamed, yet from those flames—' he started coughing.

The young keeper coughed in fits, drops of blood spilling from his stained teeth.

Levi grunted on the other end.

'No light but rather darkness visible. Served only to discover sights... of woe,'

'Uh huh. And?' Levi prompted, his steps dying and coming to a standstill.

The brunet began speaking the verses again, mouth forming words and phrases, hoping they would get carried.

'Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace and rest can never dwell, hope never comes.'

Eren took a deep breath, closing his eyes shut tightly.

Hope never comes.

'Sorry,’ he apologized in a raspy whisper, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was being sorry for. ‘That's all I remember. That’s all… I remember, Levi.'

'That's enough,' came the reply.

There was a silence before Eren heard a loud, crunching noise fill the void. He heard the gates open. Light pooled in, the imps of darkness fell and if he'd been wholly conscious, he would have been elated to hear Hanji, Moblit and someone else.

Footsteps darted towards him.

There were panic-stricken voices.

The last thing Eren remembered was the flurry of obscenities hurled at him, and the feeling of warm arms holding him up, canvassing the wound around his neck and wrapping him up in a jacket. Eren managed to force his eyes open. He sneaked a glance across. Even in the darkness, he met Levi's torpid grey depths, staring at him in a whirlwind of emotion.

 

 

 


	8. Prisoner

 

 

Chapter-8- Prisoner

~.~

He woke up to a blinding light. The walls were spotless clean, white as snow and a ceiling lamp hung over him. Eren scowled at the brightness and lay stiff on the bed. An IV drip line hung to his left, and he lay curled into a foetus, watching the liquid seep into the vein of his left arm. Somewhere in the vicinity, a monitor kept beeping, recording the pace of his heart.

He felt himself relax to its steady beat.

Eren sat up in a daze, and that’s when he felt something heavy tug at his feet. There was the clink of metal. He turned to the end of his bunker, discovering the reason. His feet were held secure, chained to the bed by steel guards.

A shadow passed over Eren's face.

Fear, confusion and finally, shock settled in.

Where was he? And why was he being held a prisoner?

His right arm was bandaged heavily, showing yellow scabs and spots of red.

'Good morning, sunshine,' he heard someone say. 'You're finally up. Took your sweet time, didn't you?'

The voice came from a woofer on the wall. He recognized the speaker immediately. It was the voice that had kept him alive back then, urging him to talk, filling him with the quiet desperation to live. It was this same voice that now sounded cold and derisive. As if Eren had been lazing in bed all day and not just woken up from the worst nightmare ever.

The brunet looked up and found himself being observed through a glass panel.

He recognised the familiar faces of his superiors. Commander Erwin sat in a chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. The strategist of the PeaceCorps had a gentlemanly disposition that fooled most people. Not many had an inkling to the ruthlessness and 'take no prisoners' persona behind that straight face. Broad shouldered, eyes deceptive and yet genial, he was watching Eren as if the young man were a test subject gone awry. Leeway to his side, Hanji was chatting up with a tough looking bloke in uniform. The gentleman did not seem amused by Hanji Zoe's conversation, enlightening though she tried to be, and flicked a speck of dirt off his sleeve impatiently. And then... Eren saw him.

Standing close to the glass, holding the mouthpiece in hand was Levi.

The older man was not in uniform, having decked himself in his black coat, a white shirt and that silly cravat of his. Eren stared long and hard at him, hoping for an explanation. An explanation that wasn’t forthcoming. Levi was still watching him with that poker face of his, grey eyes dangerously slanted. His guardian gave him the once over, checking for something. 'The docs have pumped enough morphine into you to keep the pain from the burns at bay. As for your neck, your vocal cord and windpipe didn’t suffer lasting damage. But I make it a habit to never trust people in white coats. So—' Levi paused, his features softening for a brief second. '—how are you feeling?'

'Like shit,' Eren replied as politely as he could, suppressing the urge to snarl back his answer. ‘I feel like shit.’

'Yeah?' Levi asked, a smirk making its way across his face. 'Well, that makes the two of us, trooper.'

A silence hung between them, the two men staring at each other through the slice of glass that separated them.

Eren motioned towards his restraints, raising his chained foot. The chains creaked as he did.

'So, what are these for? To bring back old memories?' the peacekeeper quipped, narrowing his gaze at his husband.

There was an upward twitch in Levi's smile.

'You mean the first time we met? Or the kinks we've got at home?'

The chatter of Hanji and her mysterious companion died. The two glanced at Levi, looking more than a little embarrassed to have overheard the last part of the conversation.

Eren held the gaze of the Corporal, his eyes narrowing. The air was charged, and the others in the room were all too afraid to interrupt.

This time Eren dropped the notion of being civil. 'And here I thought, we had a healthy, wholesome relationship,' Eren said, seething through his teeth. 'You know... the one where people talk and give a fair warning before shackling their partner in jail.'

Levi said nothing, pulling the mouthpiece away and choosing to study Eren. If Eren had hoped to provoke the older, he didn't succeed. Instead, Squad Leader Hanji Zoe tried to diffuse the tension, laughing nervously. She took off her spectacles and cleaned them with the ends of her uniform suit.

'This isn't a jail, Eren,' she hollered at him, hoping he'd hear her through the glass. 'We're letting you recuperate in the military hospital. You’re being held under supervision is all.'

'Supervision?' Eren echoed in disbelief. 'You’ve got me chained like a beast, Hanji!'

'Tsk, tsk. Think of it as a minor inconvenience.'

'Eren.'

Commander Erwin spoke up this time. He said a word, which Eren didn't pick up on, not until the commander gestured to an operator and the glass window was rolled down. It lowered inch by inch until Eren felt a warmth creep into the room from the open partition.

Erwin smiled at him.

'My apologies, cadet. I know you are still recuperating, but we have Niles Driscoll from Titan's Military Police here. He's been waiting for a week to get an account from you. An account of the events that transpired at Gate 22.'

'A week?' Eren uttered.

He’d been out for a week?

'Eight days, four hours to be precise,' Levi cut in. 'That's how long you were out, sunshine.'

Eren looked at the man lingering in the window's frame. He noted the edge in Levi’s voice, barely there. Had he been worried? Eren hoped it was all a charade and searched for a sign from his guardian. But all Levi did was adjust his scarf, avoiding Eren's gaze. The young man forced himself to steer his attention back to Erwin and Niles.

'Alright,' he yielded reluctantly. 'I’ll talk.'

Erwin smiled, shoulders easing. 'Good. It would be best if we stuck to the facts as far as possible,' the commander added and gave Eren a knowing look. 'Hanji, can you record his testimony? Eren, shall we start?'

The peacekeeper nodded reluctantly.

 

 

 

 

The interrogation lasted two hours, almost feeling like a third degree. He told them about the call from Gale, the distress signal he'd seen above Chamberlain's, the sight of the armoured Titan and a wounded Annie. He recounted his subsequent fight with the machine and his on-the-spur decision to bring down Gateway 23. The more he remembered, the more he began to doubt his judgement.

It was this last part that didn't sit well with Niles Driscoll. The man with the stubble and greying hair, with the embellished stars on his uniform, prodded Eren with questions on the Armoured Titan, on what it looked like, whether it was a droid machine and why the young man didn't choose to contact HQ immediately.

The questions belied doubt and accusation, loaded questions meant to unnerve him.

'Like I said, I don't know, sir! I'd never seen anything like that before!’ Eren repeated himself for what had to be the third time. ‘Besides, I didn't have the opportunity or the time,' Eren griped in exasperation. 'I had a suspect at hand, sir, and an injured PeaceCorp in the red. It was my prerogative to put Leonhart's life before a fucking communication.’

'An Earthborn,' Niles muttered under his breath. ‘You chose an Earthborn’s life over protecting the gates.’

Eren stared at his invigilator.

'What?' Eren blurted out, fingers of his left-hand curling into a fist. 'What did you just say?'

Niles looked at him as if Eren were a petulant child not understanding the basics.

'You demolished a Titan gate to save an Earthborn. A woman who apparently lured you back into entering the gateways. A woman who, by your account, is to be charged for treason and battery, is on the run and is in possession of the universal gate key. Kid, you've screwed up bad. For all we know, you might just be her accomplice.'

There was a silence, and Eren turned to Erwin and Hanji in desperation. Surely, they didn't believe the nonsense the man was spouting. But their placid expressions gave them all away. They did suspect him or maybe, they couldn't find an alibi strong enough to release him. So, it was true. He really was being thought of as the enemy. Because he was a human from the other world. An Earthborn. After all that he went through...

Someone scoffed.

Eren turned to Levi, who threw Niles a look of disdain.

'The law of the land proclaims Innocent till Proven Guilty, Driscoll.'

Niles gauged him before shrugging nervously.

'Yes, I am aware of the law, Corporal Levi. The question comes down to who will be representing him at the hearing.'

Levi turned to Eren, choosing his words with care.

'That'll be me, of course. I'm his mentor, his guardian, his superior since he was fifteen. I'll vouch for him.'

Niles didn't seem convinced. The man with the stubble frowned and shook his head.

'Also, his spouse. That makes the situation a little complicated.'

Levi smirked in nonchalance. 'That is irrelevant, craphead. My duty to the State surpasses everything else. After all, like you said, he's only an Earthborn, right? A fucking Earthborn. Personal relationships are tantamount to nothing in Titan.'

Eren looked on in dismay.

 

 

 

Night came... or what Eren supposed to be night. He had darkness for company, and this time, there was no voice to pull him through. He was alone like before. He sat dazed on the bed, the wall against his back, watching the neon lamps flicker in the surveillance hallway. There was no one there now. No inquisition squad, no sharp looks, no suspicions harbouring a vendetta nor any of the pitiful glances that came from his senior officers Hanji and Erwin.

The weight of insomnia dragged Eren down; his green eyes had long lost their sheen.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping tonight.

The woofer chortled.

'Can't sleep?' asked a familiar voice.

There was no mirth in it. The question was asked in all seriousness, but all Eren remembered were the words 'a fucking Earthborn' spoken with so much vitriol. Sometimes, he didn’t really know what the other man was thinking. Did Levi really believe in those words?

Eren turned to the woofer, glaring daggers at it. He searched the room for the surveillance camera but didn't find one.

'So now we're into kinks and voyeurism as well, huh?’ Eren snapped, gripping his covers. ‘How long have you been watching me?'

'Long enough.'

'Pervert,' remarked Eren.

'That would be sir to you, soldier.'

'Sorry for hurting your sentiment, pervert sir.'

Eren raised his good hand and flipped his middle finger at the voice. He rolled back onto his bed, pulling the covers over his head, the annoying chains creaking with his feet.

There was a silence before he heard the man speak.

'Still a brat.'

 

* * *

 


	9. Sunshine

 

 

Chapter-9- Sunshine

~.~

 

 

'For Nyse’s sake, don't tell me you spent the night here again!' Hanji thundered, placing a mug of steaming beverage on the table. Levi's eyes darted open and shifted from the unruly, bespectacled woman to the screen of the control room. The lump on the bed hadn't moved. All that was visible was a bandaged arm protruding out of the blanket. If Levi concentrated hard enough, he detected the slow rise and fall of the chest.

Still sleeping. Good. That was a good sign. The younger had tossed and turned the whole night. Well, tossed and turned as much as his bonds allowed him to. The arm was a worrisome sight though. Levi needed to have a word with the doctor about the arm.

'Hey, Mr. Gloom-face,’ Hanji prompted. ‘Are you listening to a word I’m saying?’

She placed a hand across his shoulder, lending support.  

The man with the under-cut shrugged mildly and ran a palm over his face.

'Sorry. Whattimesit?' he asked, surprised by the grogginess in his own voice.

'Six hundred hours. You need to rest, Levi. Go home and get some sleep.'

'I am fine,' the man barked in annoyance.

'You're obviously not fine. Besides, I'm not concerned about you, my dear clean freak,' said Hanji. She motioned towards the figure in the monitor. 'Do it for him, you lunkhead. He’s pulled through and now it’s your turn,’ she sighed. ‘Which brings me to the real reason I'm here. I had a call from Erwin. And I come bearing good news and bad. Which one do you want to hear first?'

'Good.'

Hanji Zoe flopped down on the metal chair beside him. If Levi had been feeling particularly vindictive, he'd have pointed out her unkempt hair, the creases in her shirt, even the stains of possibly Zoe's dinner from last night and the overall sloppiness of her uniform. She always appeared as if she'd just rolled out of bed, dressed in her usual garb of military colours and screech levels of enthusiasm. How she did it, Levi had no clue. How she managed to command her troupe of misfits was even more baffling. But Hanji wouldn't be Hanji without her quirks.

'Zachlay has agreed to your representation of Eren. Conditionally. On the principle that you respect the decorum of the court house and to quote him, 'not scare the shit out of the assembled with displays of violence and foul language'. He doesn't want a repeat of last time. You hear that?'

Levi smirked. 'Well, if I can't be violent and foul, I’ll end up bored to death. Where's the fun in that?'

'Levi,' warned Hanji.

'Alright, alright, can do. Hit me with the bad.'

'The hearing is scheduled for the day after. And it's not just a hearing. It's a full-blown court martial. All jury. You know what that means... don't you?'

Levi didn't answer, turning his attention back to the monitor. His eyebrows scrunched into a furrow, the anger ebbed beneath but did not surface completely.

'So, the State has enough time to court-martial the innocent but not find out who the invader was. I smell a rat here and it's not just your reeking uniform.'

'Yeah, my thoughts exactly. Wait...' Hanji yelped, looking at her clothes indignantly. 'What smell—'

'Never mind.'

He rolled out of his seat and stretched his arms, craning his neck.

'Hanji,' he said.

'Yes?'

'I need a favour. I know you're busy with your investigation into the Armoured Freakathon case and the blondie. But get Oluo on Eren’s watch. I have some errands to run.'

Before Levi could walk out of the control room, Hanji called him again.

'Aren't you going to talk to Eren?'

Levi paused briefly, looking askance at the image on the screen.

The lump was still asleep.

'No. He wouldn't be in this deep shit if it weren't for me.'

 

 

 

The apartment was in the Brianne district of Trost, on the twelfth floor of a high-rise building, with a balcony adjunct to the bedroom, from which you could see the sun on a good day. Most days weren't good days, to be honest, for the clouds of a yesteryear holocaust would linger outside the bounds of the city. A constant reminder of the past, a portentous warning for the future. Days were short, nights were longer. There had been a time when the administrative strata of the army had offered him a luxury home in Stonehess (where they had made an artificial sun to supply the deficit light) but he'd turned it down. He wasn't too fond of capitalism. And Stonehess was a monster that breathed and ate capitalism for a living. The powerful and the wealthy were its sycophants, forever chewing on its arm. He despised the lot of them, and he hated the fact that he was still serving all the pigsies and vultures he'd vowed to eradicate from this country, this world.

Levi stumbled into the one-bedroom apartment, kicking the door closed behind him.

Calm down, he told himself.

'On,' he muttered under his breath, and the nuclear-powered lights switched on as he stepped inside their apartment. Though it was a short visit, he docked the keys neatly on the counter. He took off his coat, his shirt, the cravat, folded them and deposited the clothes on the growing pile of waiting laundry. The apartment was immaculately clean, but Levi began to note the little signs of disarray that glistened like chinks in his armour. The news zines weren't stacked in their place; the towel was discarded on the back of a chair and god forbid, was that a dinner plate still unwashed? Levi frowned and went to take care of the anomaly immediately.

When the plate was returned to the kitchen cabinet and his world was set to order, Levi walked into the living room shirtless and switched on the television. He sat on the couch, watching the stream of media litter into his living space. The news channel was covering the desert storm south of Ulkridge, the State's new policy on water tax and the demolition of the slum houses on the borders of Trost.

Gains and losses, Levi muttered under his breath, before muting the channel.

The comm. was on, he noticed.

'Any messages, Gale?' he asked.

'One message,' answered the voice of the network.

Gale played it.

A strange voice filled the solitary company of the Lance Corporal. The man, who spoke into the communicator, sounded cautious as if he were afraid of being overhead. There was a hubbub of noise in the background, as if he were talking from a crowded bazaar.

'Rivaille,’ it began, calling him by his first name. ‘I hope you remember our conversation from last time. The preparation is done. Just to let you know. Drop me a word when you're ready.'

There was a beep. Silence hung in the air like the last nail to a coffin. Levi's grey eyes lingered over to the telescreen, moving from there to the shelves. There were three photographs encased in a silver frame, all Polaroid. The only thing common about the pictures was the young man with brown hair posing in all of them. Enthused green eyes filled with warmth and wonder, so much in contrast to the people beside him. The first one had Eren with his pale mother, taken apparently beside her hospital bed. The second was of the young man with his friends— a blond chick, Levi bit his tongue, no, a boy, a girl in a long skirt and a baldie. The third was perhaps the one that embarrassed Levi the most. Eren with his long, lanky arm wrapped around Levi's shoulder, a mischievous mirth in his handsome face while Levi looked almost amused.

He didn't know what Polaroid was until Eren had brought forth the camera from his world and made a riot out of snapping pictures of everything. Levi remembered Eren naming them as well, scribbling titles down with a black marker. 'The neighborhood cat— Jinxie' went one caption. 'The old woman next door— Mrs. Norman'. 'Rivaille's face when he is sleeping'. 'Rivaille's face when he is annoyed'. And 'Rivaille's face when he smiles'. Levi had gone on a rampage, tearing up most of them. But three had survived. These were those three.

There should have been a fourth, Levi mused.

'Rivaille's face when he's fucked up bad.'

'Delete the message, Gale,' Levi finally spoke into the silence.

'Message deleted,' Gale replied.

Levi walked into the balcony and watched the hues of orange over Trost's sky line. Shirtless, with the nameless wind at his back, he picked up the book he'd left in the balcony five days ago.

It had been a lot of trouble getting the book out of Trost's repository. He'd found it in the only archives that housed Earth's literature, probably books that early hitchhikers had smuggled across.

'And how may I help you, sir?' the old Librarian had asked him, stroking his beard.

'Uh,' went Levi. 'Is there a book in here that talks about darkness, dungeons and stuff?'

The old Librarian had given him an icy look in return.

'Corporal, that doesn't really give me much to go on, sir.'

Levi had floundered to remember the exact words.

'How about the line 'No light— but darkness visible'?

There was an odd silence, and the scruffy Librarian smiled.

'Ah. Now, I know what you're looking for.'

The man leapt on to a brass ladder and scrolled across his shelves. Finally, he drew back with a hardbound book and presented it to Levi.

'Paradise Lost, by Milton. One of the finest Earthen literature ever written, Lance Corporal.'

Levi had brought it home. He didn't really understand why. Perhaps, because the book reminded him of that time. The time when Eren was so close to the brink of death. It lingered painfully. And it was that rare moment in Levi's life when he had felt vulnerable, as if he were about to lose something precious and irrevocable.

Levi flipped through the pages of the book.

He stopped at a line.

The golden Sun in splendor

likest Heaven Allur'd his eye.

The golden Sun.

Levi looked at the darkening sky again and the black streets below, which were lighting up one by one. It was barely two in the afternoon. There was no sun in the world of Titan, but there was one in Levi's life.

Sunshine.

He often called him that. But the brat never found out why.

 

 

 

'I can't believe I lost,' he heard Oluo grumbling. Levi entered the surveillance corridor of the military hospital. He spotted his pseudo lookalike sitting against the glass, chewing on the withered end of a cigarette and playing a board game with Eren. The glass partition was pulled up partially, giving them enough berth to move pieces across a hologram chessboard. 'What's the point of moving your shitty pieces all the way to the enemy's side, turning them into kings when those kings are bloody arse useless?' cursed the older soldier with the dirty blond hair.

Eren didn’t seem to mind. The brunet was holding back a smile, obviously enjoying Oluo's company more than the young keeper let on.

‘You want to play checkers next?’ Eren suggested.

‘Bring it on, kid.’

Levi strode over to them.

'Bozado, my orders were to watch over the captive. Not play checkers with him.'

His voice sent a jolt through the room. Oluo stood up in rapt attention, shutting the game down with a nervous wave of his hand. The hologram dissipated, and Olua saluted Levi with his fist upon his heart, sputtering out excuses.

'Sir. It was all his idea, sir,’ he said indignantly. ‘Not mine, ALL HIS, I swear upon my grandmother's grave— oh snap,' Oluo yelped, as he bit his tongue by accident.

Levi ignored him, giving Oluo a look of chagrin and walked to the cell's door. He pressed his hand across the access control, waited for the biometric to be recognised and walked into the cell. Eren shrunk into a corner of the room, chains moving with his feet, blue-green eyes glaring at Levi.

'What’s the matter? Won't play checkers with me?' Levi asked, dropping a knapsack with Eren's clothes from home. When the younger stayed rooted to his spot, he grunted. 'Hurry up and change. Your clothes look filthy.'

 

 

* * *

 


	10. Gamble

 

 

 

Chapter-10- Gamble

~.~

Eren rummaged through the knapsack, picking his way through the things Levi had oh so _graciously_ brought from their apartment. The clothes were neatly pressed, had a smell clinging to them of closets and dry cleaning, carrying that unique scent of detergent and _home_. There were a few shirts inside, a pair of pants— all folded and arranged in a single column by industrious hands. He grabbed a crimson button up shirt and pulled it out. This one brought forth memories. He, Sasha and Connie had teamed up at a margin sale last year, three penniless college going morons determined to get the best bargain at Costco. Home, he repeated in his head. Where was it supposed to be? The hospital where medications and hope kept his mother alive? The late-night study halls where Eren and Armin had slept through countless deadlines and assignments? Or this depressing cell in a world far away where he was oft visited by comrades and mocked by his own husband? Eren used to think of Titan as a place he could call his own. But it was funny how a single phrase could make him feel like the alien that he was.

A fucking Earthborn, huh?

He glanced at Levi, who was leaning against the wall and watching Eren, his face expressionless.

Eren was piqued by that mask of indifference.

'I can do this on my own,  Corporal, sir,' Eren remarked offhandedly.

'I’ll be fascinated to see how,' was Levi's patronising reply.

Yeah. They could go at this for hours. They, in fact, had gone at this for hours before. This and of course, something _else_. But Eren was trying to keep his mind off those. The brunet ambled over to the washstand, looked into the mirror and attempted to get the buttons to his sickly shirt undone. It was a flimsy blue hospital shirt they’d dressed him in. 

'How is your right arm?' Levi asked, surprisingly patient through his struggle.

'It's fine,' Eren lied, wrinkles forming in his forehead from all the effort.

Stupid buttons. Won’t come off, he thought to himself.

‘Is that so?’

‘Yes,’ Eren grumbled.

The brown-haired keeper scowled and walked over to his bed, laying down his maroon shirt on the mattress. He was trying to avoid Levi's eye though it was becoming increasingly difficult to look at anything but the man with the undercut. If being cooped up in a cell was maddening, then being hounded by Levi’s gaze at every step was nothing short of nerve-wracking. Levi had always been a mix of contradictions. Short for his ego; foul mouthed despite his insistence on hygiene, order and rules. Levi, the larger than life hero who had rivalled Eren's comic books. Levi, forever standing in the by lanes, not wanting attention but always at the centre of a brewing storm. Yes, that was the man he'd unfortunately got himself hitched to.

Why was he even thinking about the pokerface? Where was the apology that Eren sought?

There was a strained silence; Eren risked a glance at Levi. The older man looked admirably passive but when he spoke next, his voice carried an edge. 

'Your arm’s fine?' Levi repeated. 'Is that the truth, Jaeger?'

Jaeger. Not Eren, the younger man noted.

'—yes.'

'If you're fine, you won't mind saluting your superior when he asks you to. C’mon, give me a salute.'

Eren said nothing, watching Levi in dismay. What was the jerk trying to prove? There was no way in fucking hell he could be asking Eren to do this.

But he was.

'Come on, soldier. Give me your best salute. Put that right fist upon your heart and tell me what being Titan’s soldier really means to you.'

Eren looked down at his bandaged arm. He badgered it to move, even pleaded. No, he didn't want to be shamed. At least, not like this.

Nothing happened.

His arm just hung limp.

Not even a twitch of a finger.

Stupid arm.

Levi's storm grey eyes shifted from the offending limb to Eren’s face. 'You said we should talk. And yet, you won't tell me the first thing about your injuries. Why is that, trooper?'

'Fine, I lied,' Eren hissed, fidgeting on his spot. He hated this feeling of being cornered. 'I can't feel a single nerve in my right arm, okay? People are going to call me the one handed suicidal bastard from now on. Happy? Thanks for rubbing it in. You’re such a prick, Levi.'

'Sir,' corrected Levi.

Eren growled.

'Sir,’ the younger repeated, fuming.

The young man with the brown hair began venting his frustration on the buttons of his shirt. Eren didn’t realise when Levi had left his post by the wall. But the man was before him suddenly, swatting Eren's left hand away, looking sullen as he did. Eren watched him work quietly, working his way down Eren's shirt, deft fingers moving expertly. In the awkward quiet that followed, Eren raised his head and looked at the false ceiling. It took Eren all the effort to stay as nonchalant as the other.

Truth be told, Eren had missed this real bad. This proximity to the man he loved and admired. He’d been here for days and this was the first time the man was here in person, trying to check on him. Why did this visit seem to come all too late? Eren tried to overlook the scent of shampoo in Levi's hair, but there it was, rousing to his senses.

Levi's fingers were unnaturally slow, lingering often and braced the skin of Eren's chest. The shorter man looked up briefly, meeting Eren's green eyes with an amused smile.

Eren made a muffled grunt.

'I'm still angry at you,' Eren reminded him. Or perhaps, he was trying to remind himself.

'You have a right to be,' answered Levi, pulling at Eren's collar to draw the younger down until they were speaking eye to eye.

'You've... got me locked up,' Eren protested.

'Not the first time, admit it.'

Eren scowled, trying to grab at excuses to stay furious.

'You didn't even call once.'

'Neither did you. Not until you decided to show up battered and bleeding to death on my doorstep. Does that sound fucking fair to you, Eren?'

‘So, you were worried?’ Eren asked, unable to suppress his smile.

They stared each other down, and Eren was on the verge of giving it all up. The cold standoff. This facade of being angry with a man he could never really keep away from. Eren wanted to lower his head, close those final two inches between their lips and claim what was his again. He'd missed Levi's hands, the man’s touch against his skin. He'd missed the aloof smile and the shadows that danced under his eyes.

But the woofer chortled, ruining the mood.

A woman cleared her throat. Petra, Eren recognised grumpily. If she'd espied their moment in the control room, she didn't let on.

'Hanji and Zacharias want to talk to you, Corporal,' the woman said.

Levi studied Eren in the silence, and pulled himself back.

'Your hearing is tomorrow. It's a court-martial,' Levi confessed, his features taking on a frown. He brought up a hand to scratch his undercut. 'I can't guarantee the outcome but... get some sleep. You'll need it. I will send in a nurse to help you change and to change your bandages. We don't want the wounds to fester,' Levi said before turning to leave the cell.

Eren remained leaning against the wall, watching Levi's retreating back.

Home.

That small, four letter word lingered in the wake of Levi's gaping absence.

 

 

 

 

Petra Ral was a welcome change in the series of guards. Oluo persisted on playing Earthen board games with him; Hanji would smile gleefully as she observed Eren, pestering him with questions on what his world was like _. C'mon Eren, we've got so much time to kill,_ she'd say. Squad leader Zoe was always interested in his origins especially the physics of Earth, their laws of gravity, the absence of droids, the slow burgeoning evolution of machines and even the moon. She was like a high-strung version of Armin, forever curious about everything. Petra was perhaps the most normal of the lot. The woman with the chestnut brown hair filled him on the current affairs of Titan. What the PeaceCorps had been tasked with in the last few months, their endeavours and successes. Even their losses.

At times, Eren's attention would hover over to the woofer in the room. He had the sinking feeling that Levi wasn't around. His suspicions were confirmed when an hour into Petra's watch, Oluo stuck his head in, giving the surveillance arena a sneaky glance.

'Ral, how is the babysitting going?' Oluo asked, looking around nervously.

'Hey Oluo, it’s going well. And why... are you being creepy?' Petra asked, shooting her partner a look of disgust.

Oluo peeked around the corner of the stairs furtively.

'There isn't a... uh, an angry midget corporal around, is there?'

Petra wagged a finger in his face.

'No, and you won't live to see dawn if he heard you say that to his face.'

'Heh. I will take my chances,' said Oluo, striding to the glass partition. He reached into the vest pocket of his uniform and drew out a worn deck of cards.

'So, Jaeger,' he said, giving the prisoner a sneer and slurring Eren's last name for effect. 'You may be an ace at checkers but I doubt you're any good at poker,' Oluo held up his rundown deck. 'My old buds taught me the game back in the day. I'm a seasoned veteran, I am warning you. Though I hear you earthlings are quite the gamblers.'

Eren returned a smirk of his own, the spirit of competition flaring up inside him.

'I can still beat your ass to my world, sir. With just one good hand,' said Eren, holding up his left.

'Oooh, was that a pun just now, you cocky brat?'

Eren's smile only grew wider.

'But poker is played with chips. Unfortunately, sir—' he gestured to his shackles. '—I've got nothing on me.'

Oluo Bozado was quiet for a long moment, having not anticipated this hitch in his game plans.

'Then how ‘bout strip poker?'

Eren stared, his ears going pink.

‘Uh,’ was all he could muster before Petra came to the rescue. Her head whipped to the older man so quick, it made even Eren wince.

'Oluo,’ she berated him. ‘Do you really want the Lance Corporal to discover you playing strip poker with Jaeger? Do you have a death wish? Do you want to be skinned alive with a blunt knife?'

The image sent a shiver down Oluo's spine, and he took a hasty sip of from his whisky flask.

'Blackjack. We'll drink to our short lives ahead and settle with Blackjack, eh?'

 

 

 

 

Trost was not partial to all its inhabitants, kind only to those who knew how to navigate its labyrinth and benign to those who had wads of money in their pockets. It was easy to get lost in its maze like slithering pathways. Levi forced his way across through the spaces between buildings, swinging through thin air. 'Welcome to District 51' said a sad looking graffiti on one wall. He could see the stark realities on ground; district 51 was on the verge of being subparred. The slum clearance had driven out most of the folks. Though Levi espied the sight of a sickly mother tending to a crying baby in one window and a coughing, old man in another balcony. There was never enough food. Never enough medicine. Never enough water. Welcome to the land of the sundry and _dry_ , quipped another graffiti aptly. The scarce pockets of people that spotted him weren't too pleased to see Levi, watching him in disfavour for his State uniform. The place showed little signs of the living with its windows boarded up and torn billboards of luxuries none of the people here could afford. The ruins would be demolished, and new constructions would pop up. A mall. A government house. Or worse, a pub. That was how it worked. That was how it always worked.

He searched for a vantage point and found one at long last.

Levi put on his leather gloves and swung down to the fire escape of a building in ruins. The metal barricade creaked under his boots and he stilled, watching the alley that stretched below him. Not much of a scenic view but the place had other tactical advantages.

He unmuted his comm. and looked at the space between the drudgery and metal scraps.

'Erd, Gunther. Send me your coordinates once you're stationed,' he spoke quietly.

'Roger... Erd here. I'm at the market square around the corner of Fifth Avenue, sir. Subject not sighted.'

There was a pause.

'Gunther speaking. Same here. I'm half a league ahead of you, sir.'

'Alright,' said Levi. 'Stay alert,' after which he switched the link to HQ.

'Hanji,' he hissed into the silence. 'I hope you're not leading us on a wild goose chase here.'

Her voice simmered. 'No, I'm not. Trust me. Gale detected Leonhart on the network, last activity observed at nineteen hundred hours in District 51. She is there somewhere. Do you want to let this chance slip by?'

Levi was quiet for a long moment, deliberating on something.

'The whole thing reeks of a setup. But alright,' he said. 'We'll wait out here and freeze our balls off. Hope you're happy, four eyes.'

'I am! Why, thank you—'

Levi cut the link and switched to Gunther and Erd again.

'Hey, you know the drill. My apologies for dragging you out here on your day off when you ought to be at home, being henpecked by your wives, snoozing with your lovers, whatever. But we have a job to do. I’m sending you a profile on the suspect so we all know what she looks like. Remember our suspect is armed. If you spot her, I repeat, do not launch an offensive until and unless provoked. I want her alive. Am I clear?'

'Yes, sir!' came the voices in unison.

Levi went quiet, watching the alley in a sullen silence. Seconds passed into minutes and Levi adjusted his stance. He changed his zirconium blades, choosing a sharper one over the blunt, and the soft tinkering sounds of metal soothed his nerves. He checked the .45 pistol in its holster across his chest. Yes, it was there and fully docked. Now, all that remained was the actual target.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Come on, Leonhart. Show up.

Stake out operations were not his creed, Levi didn't have the patience, and he’d outranked them ages ago.

When a quarter of an hour had passed and the only thing that walked into the alley was a sorry looking droid dog, bursting with sparks, Levi pressed the comm. on.

'Erd. You there?'

There was no reply.

'Gunther?'

No response from Gunther either.

'Shit,' blurted out Levi and left his vantage post. He fell through the air, heading to the half league point Gunther was supposed to have set up. Something had gone wrong, he knew.

And that’s when Levi noticed the figure walking through the alley.

The green parka, the uniform of the PeaceCorp and a strange languidness in her steps.

Levi descended, landing square in the middle of the narrow pathway and creating a storm of dust as he did.

The stranger stopped and turned sideways, considering him.

Levi caught sight of the strands of blond hair under the hood and a high bridged nose.

'Annie Leonhart, isn't it?'

 

* * *

 


	11. Trust

 

 

Chapter-11- Trust

~.~

'Annie?' echoed the woman, breaking into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. 'Yes, that’s my name... but I have a second as well. Anarchy. Ever heard of it?'

Levi regarded her as she turned towards him. Blue eyes. Blond hair. Thick nose. And a simper of a smile full of conceit. His eyes narrowed down on the key dangling from her throat. Eren's key.

Levi grunted, admiring her audacity to flaunt it so openly. 'Sorry, kid… but I'm not much of a talker,' he said, grabbing hold of his zirconium blade and propelled his gear into a straight line towards her, his boots ricocheting off the pavement in quick, long strides. 'So, let's skip the introductions, shall we?' he growled and leapt high, spinning in a blinding haze towards her.

Annie didn't move, remained wilfully frozen to her spot until Levi landed with the full brunt of his force.

Thin air. That was all his blades met when he skidded to a stop, leaving scorch marks in the dirt of the alley. The woman had vanished, leaving no traces of having ever been there.

What was this?

Some sort of a fucking magic show?

'Tch,' Levi mumbled, growing frigid still.

Come on. Where are you, you conniving—

When Levi heard the click of a trigger being pressed, he had just enough time to duck and roll out of the way as lead bullets rang out, hitting the barrels standing in the back of the alley. In the mayhem of gunfire and smoke, Levi drew himself behind a concrete pillar and cursed. The barrage of bullets lasted a round, blowing the lid off empty crates, hitting the cables and frightening a skinny alley cat into hiding. A grim silence enveloped the deserted neighbourhood and he heard Annie's measured footsteps over the dust.

'The infamous Lance Corporal Levi. Demoted from Lieutenant because the State didn’t take a fancy to you. Aren't you glad I wasn't in your training squad, sir? Your ego would have taken a beating.'

Levi knew better than to answer. He needed a weakness to work on. Everybody had one. What was this blondie's excuse?

Annie searched the grounds for him, her steel blue eyes roaming the ruins.

'A grandmaster had once said,' she began in a soft voice. '-You must take your opponent into a deep dark forest where two and two is five, and the path leading out is only wide enough for one. That's the rule I live by, Corporal. I'm afraid your men had to find that out... the _hard_ way.'

Levi’s gaze drew narrow.

'Bitch,' he muttered.

She smiled.

'Oh, don't worry. They're alive. Maybe, a broken arm… or two? I don't really… keep count. They'll get their pensions, I do hope.'

Levi clenched his gloved fingers into a fist. Erd. Gunther... dammit. He dug into his vest and pulled out the .45 pistol. He placed it under one arm and took the safety off.

'That so?’ he called out. 'I stick to the old philosophy of war. You know what that is?'

Annie did not answer as she searched for the source of his voice.

Levi stifled a smile and in one swift move, he emerged into the clearing. She stood against the bricks, her attention drifting slowly to him. Without losing a beat, Levi kept his arm steady and pulled the trigger, aiming for her shoulder.

She ducked.

The bullet wheezed past her, shrapnel from the shot on the wall scraping her cheek.

'An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth!' Levi growled, holding his arm steady and shot another round at her.

Annie deflected it again, her reflexes sharper than any rookie he’d ever seen. She rolled on the ground, but Levi was a veteran and he knew all the tricks to the game. He crashed into her, allowing her little time to recover and pulled his opponent up into a headlock against the wall, slamming her face into it. 'And woman, I believe I have more than one score to settle with you,' he jeered, aiming for her face with a straight jab of his fist.

Leonhart twisted herself free with a snarl.

She countered his punch with a mean one of her own, following it up by sweeping her hands into his ribs, her fingers sinking into the skin and clawing into his flesh.

‘Oh, I see what this is about,’ she seethed through the whites of her teeth. ‘I see what’s got under your skin.’

Levi coughed, drawing back and aimed a knee in her gut.

'I can see why he looked up to you so much...' said Annie, a grin forming on her chapped lips as she caught hold of his boot and resisted. 'You were the hero who could never go wrong. But he doesn't know all, does he? The idiot trusts you with his life. That’s what he told me before I carved that little scar on his neck. How’s he doing, Corporal?'

Levi's eyes slanted into slits, he drew his blades again and lunged at her.

There was a bright steak of light; the blonde disappeared again before reappearing on top of a building on the right.

Breathless and heaving, Annie Leonhart glanced at him, her hand holding up the key.

'We are not that different, sir.'

Levi watched her, seething in silence.

'Thank Eren... for this,' she told him, tilting her head and gesturing to the key. 'The road to pandemonium started with him. You of all people should know that. Anarchy is coming for you, Corporal sir.'

The gate came into view behind her, the hollow pitch black of its mouth opening wide and the woman slipped into the void, the smile having never left her lips.

Levi rubbed away the dribble of blood from the corner of his lips.

 

 

 

 

'Armin!' said Carla, calling out to him when he appeared at the ward's door. 'Where _is_ he? Is he alright?'

The young man with the round face and framing blond hair looked stunned for a small moment. He opened his mouth and jammed it closed again. Teetering towards the table near Carla, Armin placed the bouquet of roses near her, something which he'd bought after a hasty drop by the florist, knowing how much Mrs. Jaeger liked the red roses of winter. The truth was— he had hoped to find Eren here with his mother. But he was beginning to understand that his loud mouthed, spirited friend hadn’t dropped by. He wasn’t in his dorm room or at college.

'Eren is fine, Mrs. Jaeger,' he lied. 'There was, um, a call of emergency so he had to leave early. Don't worry. He isn't up to trouble,' Armin tried to mollify her with an ill placed grin.

At least, he hoped so. Or his lies would take him straight to hell one of these days. Stupid Eren, always leaving things half-assed, always expecting him to pick up after him.

Carla watched him, gauging his words carefully. She seemed to believe him. The shadows of anxiety slowly dissolved; her shoulders slumped. Her face was remarkably like Eren's, but there was a sombre quality to her; she did not have the rage for life that her son possessed. Carla Jaeger looked forlorn and wistful as she passed a glance at the window and the world outside.

'Eren never leaves without a goodbye.'

Armin agreed mutely. He grabbed hold of a chair and dragged it to the bedside. He brought his satchel bag to his lap and smiled courteously.

'What would you like me to read today, Mrs. Jaeger?'

 

 

 

 

Something was happening out there, the brunet realised. Petra and Oluo had received a call on Gale, and they had shared a look. Eren knew that look. Oh, that horrid glance when one is informed of an operation having failed and lives lost in the outcome. There were other ominous signs as well. Like how Oluo had stopped insisting on another ridiculous game of cards, and how Petra kept glancing at the digital monitor at the end of the hallway. They were not arguing anymore. What were they watching? What had diverted their thoughts?

Neither of them dared to meet him in the eye.

Why was that?

And he dreaded to know the reason.

Eren knocked on the divider’s glass to draw their attention.

'Hey guys,' he called out to them from his cell.

At first, they pretended to not notice.

Not even when Eren banged on the glass with his palm and felt the pain burn into his skin.

_C'mon, look this way!_

At long last, Petra came over and took the mouthpiece into her hand, brushing away the ginger strands that fell across her eyes.

'Jaeger,' she said, her voice sounding hoarse and shaken. She admonished him like an elder sister, just like she used to back in his days with the training guild. 'Go to sleep. We have the hearing tomorrow. Did you forget?'

Eren held her gaze, his breath shallow.

'Is everything alright?' he asked her.

Petra forced a smile, her eyes disappearing like a cat's.

'Everything is peachy. Now, go to sleep.'

'You're lying, aren't you?'

Petra's smile wavered for a fraction of a second.

'Eren,’ she said. ‘You trust us, right?'

'Of course, I do!' he cut in, indignant at the question.

'Then, trust us… and Levi.'

 

 

* * *

 


	12. Troublemaker

Chapter-12- Troublemaker

~.~

Trust.

Trust was a word that seemed to roll off people's tongues too easily, overused to the point where its meaning was rendered worthless. The word left a bruising bitterness in him.

People threw ‘trust’ around carelessly when the word meant so much more to Eren. It was the foundation of all his bonds, be it friendship, kinship, comrades… and yes, even love. Sure, others called him a gullible idiot for believing in people, for believing in a future when the present was so bleak. But he wouldn't be Eren Jaeger if he didn't believe. Hope and unbridled courage was all he had. Take that out of him, and what did he have… save a useless arm and the bandages around his neck. But reality had taken it in its prime agenda to throttle him. To let Eren have his ass handed back to him in style. If trust were a person, he pictured it as the harlot from red light district, looking for a rich patron, an easy lay and an idiot to deceive.

Christ, Eren didn't want to be that idiot.

Fool me once, shame on you.

He'd trusted Annie, and he knew just how great that had turned out.

That morning, Petra had come down to his cell with a cup of coffee. He never got to get a sip out of it. Members of the military police had barged into the hospital, fully armed and ordered a nurse to unwind the accused, namely _him_ , from the IV drip and the heart monitor. His feet were freed from the shackles, but the fleeting glance at freedom was momentary. The barrel of a gun dug into his back and he watched as Petra and Oluo protested on his behalf.

'This is outrageous, you skunks! By whose authorization— oh I bit my tongue!'

Petra was livid with fury.

'Lay off him! You can't manhandle Eren this way!'

'Guys,' Eren said and tried placating the seniors of his squad. '—it's fine. I'll go along with them. It's cool. No, seriously!'

Oluo regarded him in a mix of awe and pain, the latter because of the ulcer bleeding in his mouth.

Petra's anger gave way to a tumultuous guilt. She managed a weak smile at him.

'They can't charge a thing, Eren,' she assured him. 'There isn't a case against you,' the gingerhead said, raising her small fist in encouragement as they parted.

But Eren wasn't so sure. The truth to the matter was… he was anything but cool. He was afraid, he was tired, he didn't want to be stuck in claustrophobic jails, but he wasn't going to admit any of it to the numbskulls shoving him onward.

The tribunal was to be held in the Senate house, a grand building which housed the old courts of Trost. He was forced into a two-seater air craft (called a TJ in this part of the universe) and escorted in VIP prisoner style to the Senate House in five point three minutes. That's what the dashboard told him. 5.3. Eren said nothing the entire journey, his quiet anger eating away inside. Part of him was furious at the State. The other part was anxious and hurting. Hurting because the one man he had trusted wasn't even beside him.

When they reached the Senate, Eren was taken by the vanguards through winding corridors— lavish, richly adorned with painted motifs of Titan's Renaissance. Their steps echoed in the quiet, loud like the heart pacing in his chest. He was deposited into an empty waiting room and asked to bide his time.

Eren sat on the bench and studied the mosaic walls around him.

Here again.

Oh, he’d been in a place like this before.

The figure of Lady Justice loomed above him. The wings of freedom on her back, one painted black and the other marble white. She was blindfolded and held a level balance in her hands. She looked frail. As though if he touched her, her feathers would come undone and could never be returned to those wings of hers.

Hello, ma'am. I think we’ve met before.

The doors opened, and Niles Driscoll stalked in, interrupting Eren in his conversation with Lady Justice. Driscoll scratched his scrawny stubble and grunted when he spotted Eren on the bench. Niles motioned him towards the double doors.

'It's time for the hearing, kid. You ready?'

Truth be told, Eren wasn't ready. There was a storm brewing behind those giant four walls, and he was scared stiff. He didn't want to enter it.

But he didn't really have a choice.

 

 

 

His steps sounded like the last nails to a coffin and he, the sacrificial lamb. Eren remembered a court like this one, its tiled floors and the large glass windows which streamed artificial light as if there were a sun out there. Titan had a dwarf sun, which was on its last vestige of life. The last time he'd been brought to the Court of Justice, Eren had been fifteen and was accused of trespassing into the world of Titan. (And just hw the hell was Eren supposed to know that the key left behind by his father was not just the key to his goddam basement? That it led somewhere farther, beyond stars and space, to this planet.)

He had been fifteen back then, and the court of this world had threatened him with the guillotine.

He was twenty-three now, and Eren prayed to whatever God governed space hitchhikers that Titan had chosen a less primitive (and much less painful) way of sending people to the gallows.

There was a prod to his back, and Eren knew the jerks were asking him to walk up to the accused stand.

If only he could find those knees of his.

_Dammit. Knees, where art thou?_

It was a solitary walk, and the aisle seemed like the longest he'd ever treaded. He could feel the hundred eyes boring into his back as he took the stand.

Someone cleared their throat, a scratchy sound erupting in the pin drop silence.

Eren looked up and met Judge Zachlay's sharp gaze. The man watched him long, disdain evident in his stare. He had a scruffy, grey beard, and he sank into his plush seat, giving Eren another investigative look. He gave a quiet 'hurm' and glanced down at the file before him.

 _Please, don't remember me._ Eren chanted in his head. _Please don't remember. Pl-_

'Welcome back to the Courts of Justice, Eren. It's been a while.'

_Fuck. I'm screwed._

Eren chanced a look at the gallery.

Much to his amazement, it was a houseful that day.

_Guess folks here don't get to see court-martials often. I must be like prime-time TV to them._

Judge Zachlay was seated between the jury boxes, a group of hard faced men and women in suits, tuxedoes, all belonging to the merchant class, clergy and the different strata of society.

At the left of the courtroom was a row of cascading benches with Commander Erwin, Hanji, Moblit, Petra, Oluo and so many other familiar faces he didn’t even got the chance to say hello yet. On the right was the prosecution, a whole gambol of military police and high ranked officers.

Eren stood in the centre, a lark between the sharks.

He searched the faces but didn't find the grey eyes among them.

_Fool me once, shame on you._

_Fool me twice, shame on me._

Apparently, Zachlay was thinking along the same lines.

'Eren Jaeger, Peacecorp, Cadet of the 104th squadron, where is your _Avocat_?'

Eren looked at Hanji in confusion, but the woman in the ponytail motioned towards her watch and held up three fingers, gesticulating weird signals. What the hell was that even supposed to mean?

'Uh—’ Eren tried answering. ‘I forgot to… bring it?' he proffered, hoping he’d interpreted the question right.

There were snickers all around. People in the benches started to laugh.

Judge Zachlay was not amused.

'Avocat is a person, Eren. Your defense. Not a wallet or whatever you think it is.'

The judge turned to Erwin and arched an eyebrow. 'You haven't coached him, have you? Levi was the name you suggested, wasn't it? Where is your second in command?'

Erwin nodded, feigning politeness.

'There was an urgent business that needed taking care of. He will be here soon, Judge.'

Zachlay shook his head, unimpressed, and turned to the prosecution.

Niles Driscoll bowed to the magistrate and waved a hand petulantly.

'I'm afraid, Judge, the rest of us have even more important businesses to attend to. The safety of the city and its denizens for example. Can we go ahead with the court-martial?'

Eren went stiff.

Zachlay looked at the time on a giant clock behind Eren. His expression furrowed, and he saw reason in the prosecution's demands.

'Alright. We may begin the trial.'

Cheers broke out on the prosecution side of the courtroom. Niles’s deputies tried to reason with Judge Zachlay.

'If his guarantor won't even appear, why do we need a trial? It’s plain that the troublemaker's own defense has deserted him. Let us save the taxes of the citizens of Titan and send him to the guillotine. He destroyed the gates, after all, and his accomplice is still at large.'

The higher officials agreed among themselves.

'He is a bloody traitor. He doesn't even deserve a trial!'

'An Earthborn, ain't he?'

'Yes! The gallows! The guillotine! Off with his head!' went another overexcited bloke.

Eren's turquoise green eyes widened, his throat going dry.

Was this justice?

In all the uproar, he heard the double doors open and a 'tch' almost went unheard.

'Oh, I'm sorry. I thought this was the Courts of Justice,’ a familiar voice spoke up, carrying a trace of mockery. ‘But I didn't realise that the Senate had a swine market as well. My _mistake._ '

The noises piped down, and the entire court looked on, gagged by the snarky voice. Silence fell.

Eren grew aware to the footsteps behind him. Languid, slow, carefully spaced. A comforting arm slipped loosely around his waist, lending assurance as the shorter man stepped up to his side.

Lance Corporal Levi watched him from the corner of his eyes, their gaze met for a small moment, before Levi turned his grim attention to the magistrate. Judge Zachlay didn’t seem too pleased to see him either.

'Eren Jaeger’s avocat reporting for duty. I would apologise for being late. But knowing how you white livers droll on, I'm guessing I didn't miss much.'

 

* * *

 


	13. Guilty

Chapter-13- Guilty

~.~

 

 

If he’d been the sort to appreciate art, he would have taken a gander at the décor of the court, admired the works and blown a low whistle. But Levi didn’t care for it. For a simple court martial such as this one, the State had come full house, he noticed. Levi was dressed in his Sunday best, the casual attire of a black coat hanging over shoulders, his long sleeved plain shirt tailored perfectly to his build. The cravat was missing, revealing the collar and the first button to his shirt undone. Messy considering Levi's standards. Too sloppy, he berated himself. But he hadn't the time or the convenience to dress up for Titan’s judicial entertainment. And an entertainment, it no doubt was. A full-fledged carnival for the sport of the higher ups. The court scribe— a young woman with pleated blond hair and delicate features, was staring at him in that God-awful way that women do... starry eyes, blush across the cheeks, and ardour in their gazes, when they think they've found the men of their dreams. Levi wasn’t the only one who noticed it. Eren watched her too.

'Thanks for the memo,' Levi told the court, reaching into his coat and pulling out a slip of yellow parchment. He smirked and holding the paper out, crumpled it in the ball of his fist. 'Though some illiterate fuckface put down the courtroom as twelve instead of five. And that was one long walk down a filthy corridor, you know,” he scoffed. “I'm guessing it wasn't unintentional. I'm guessing,' Levi paused at this juncture, looking at the prosecution bench with a glimmer of cool accusation, '— that I'm not wanted here.'

Judge Zachlay cleared his throat and steepled his fingers over his papers.

'Language, Levi,' he admonished the corporal. 'You do remember the conditions we agreed upon. You will respect the decorum of my court while you're here. You don't want to make Ms. Historia’s life any more difficult, do you?'

Levi’s slanted eyes turned from the judge to the court scribe, and Levi watched as the short, petite girl gave a squeak under his intense scrutiny and averted her attention to the tablet screen, where she was busy taking notes with her stylus pen.

Levi shrugged.

'Apologies, blondie. I'm not on my happy pills right now. So, I won't guarantee my language will stay clean and dignified,’ he huffed. ‘For the record, I've just had to admit two of my squad into emergency, both critically injured by soldier Annie Leonhart,' he turned to the court audience at large, scanning their faces. 'I would have sent a memo about the encounter, but I was too busy attending to the family of my men. Of course, that's the shittiest part of the ordeal. Explaining, apologising and owning up to mistakes. Not everyone can do that, huh?'

A hush fell over the court room. Eren’s gaze turned to him at the mention of the injured. Levi was sure those green eyes of Eren’s were drilling holes into the side of his head, questions bubbling forth but not having the liberties to ask them. Not in a place like this, anyway.

'Leonhart?' echoed the sleazeball next to Niles Driscoll. Levi didn't know the man's name, didn't care for it either. 'He lies, your honour. We did not hear of any such thing. An encounter, pfft. It is a setup to get his man acquitted.'

Levi moved to Historia's table, surprising her, and without a word or explanation, he began rearranging her desk at tandem, invoking a squeak from the poor girl. He moved the crystal paperweight to its orderly place on her right, arranged the recorder, tucked the papers into a file... all this while the girl watched him in a daze. He did this with such an expression of boredom and unease, Historia didn't want to interrupt him. She was suddenly very afraid of this man and his morose face.

The court, on the other hand, erupted into a riot of voices.

'LIES!'

'It's all rubbish. He is protecting the accused—'

'Wait. Who is Annie Leonhart? I've never—'

Thump.

Thump.

THUMP.

Judge Zachlay hammered on his desk, bringing silence to the court room again. He pushed his glasses up his stodgy nose and looked at the gallery in disdain.

'The State is not here to discuss Annie Leonhart. Let me remind the court of the agenda. We're assembled here today to decide the fate of this young gentleman brought before you. PeaceCorp Eren Jaeger. Yes,’ he hissed, his voice growing cold. ‘That’s the one standing before you. Prosecution, please put forward your charges.'

Levi's hands stopped moving over Historia's desk for a short moment. It was a very small, intricate pause but his eyes remained fixed on that single smudge of ink on Historia's fingers.

Messy.

Things had just got messy.

 

 

 

 

 

Eren knew he ought to be concentrating, what with the threat of a chopper hanging above his head. But the only word that bristled through the brunet's thick head was the name Annie.

She was here in Trost.

In the world of Titan.

She was roaming the streets like a happy camper, and she had attacked two of Levi's squad. He could have forgiven her for his injuries. He could have pardoned her for slashing his neck and for robbery as well. But not this. Not _this_.

Eren bit his lip, digging his teeth into his lips and drawing blood.

It was her fault that he— oh god he was here— being charged for treason and a multitude of other crimes he did not even commit. Eren couldn't keep his fingers from shaking; he fought hard to stop the tremors that threatened to spill over his body.

The other thing that bothered him was the fact that Levi was avoiding his eye. Was the older man annoyed with him? Was Rivaille tired of pulling him out of trouble? Eren imagined he would be, since Eren was notorious for attracting trouble. Ever since he discovered the world of Titan eight years ago. Ever since he tripped into his family's basement and ended up in Levi's world through the wormhole of space and time.

He heard his name being called and was startled to find the entire gallery looking at him. Niles Driscoll was summarising the charge sheet.

'The accused here, Eren Jaeger, is suspected of... One, abusing his privileges and vandalising gate twenty-three. Two, for losing the universal gatekey which had been entrusted in his custody. Though the Military Police and I have reason to believe it is a manufactured lie, and a plot for something worse. Three, he is hereby charged for consorting with another Earthborn who goes by the name of Annie Leonhart and for conspiring against the State. I rest my case.'

'And four, for the vice of homosexuality!' decried a clergy man from the jury box. The man had hardly risen when he shrivelled up after receiving a death glare from Levi.

Judge Zachlay took a deep breath and exhaled.

'Pastor Nick, the law of the land does not recognise that as a crime. As for the rest,' he turned to the prosecutor Niles, the one with the scrawny stubble, '— do you have evidence for these allegations?'

Niles nodded, a plaguing triumph in his manners. He motioned towards an uptight woman on his left who handed him a new sheet.

'Yes, Judge. For the first, the accused admits it in his testimony.'

Zachlay rested his head over the pinnacle of his joint fingers. He looked at Eren.

'Is that true, Jaeger? Do you agree to destroying gate twenty-three? Think carefully before you answer. You do realise how much capital and manpower went into building each of the passages to Earth.'

Eren balked.

'Y-yes but—'

Before he could even word his answer, Niles interrupted, and Eren grit his teeth, amazed by how everyone was missing the bit about the bulky, hundred tonne armoured Titan that he had fought.

'And for the second,' Niles continued with relish. '— the soldier claims, that his key was taken forcibly by this Annie Leonhart. There is also a rather heart-warming story of how he carried her while she was injured, was betrayed by her, yada, yada and the story of an armoured beast interspersed in between. Wonderfully fabricated, if I must say so myself.'

Zachlay watched Eren curiously.

'And why do we doubt that, Driscoll?'

'Because I have here, in the witness stand, the elderly couple Stevenson’s. Their house is constructed on the Titan end of Gate 23. And on the night of the events, they heard a loud explosion, found rubble smoking from the point above their house. But no armoured droid. None, sir. Just ruins and a rain of smoke and debris. As no surveillance can be set up in the interstellar tunnels, we couldn't confirm the witness accounts. But the Stevensons' testimony can be taken as valid.'

'And bought with hard cash,’ Levi muttered. ‘Shmucks were probably sleeping when it happened,' Eren heard the man give a ‘tch’ under his breath. Historia's eyes widened, but no one else seemed to have heard this.

'For the third,' Niles Driscoll began.

'Hey,' interrupted a voice. ‘HEY!’

Much to his surprise, Eren realised it was his own mouth speaking. The court was thrown into the throes of silence as the accused finally let himself be heard. 'No. You know what,' said Eren, beginning to laugh hysterically though he didn't even know what he was laughing for. Anguish came to him in waves, and a hatred seared in the corners of his eyes, making him tear a little. These were the people he was supposed to protect? These liars, poltroons and carrions? 'You know what? I really don't give a damn about the third. No matter what I say, how many times I say it, it wouldn't mean a thing. ? Because you retards have already decided I’m a liar. Isn't that true, you goddam fuckers?'

He looked at the left side of the courtroom, meeting the quiet gaze of Commander Erwin, and the watchful expression on Hanji’s, who had her hands clasped before her as if she were praying for a miracle at this point. Petra was watching him in horror, and Oluo's head was slumped as if to say 'Now you've done it, kid!

Judge Zachlay looked amused.

'No, Eren Jaeger. The court will decide your fate. You don't have the liberty to choose it. And despite your outbursts, we will listen to your defence, lad. If you _have_ one, I suppose. Lady Justice compels us to listen at the bare minimum,' the man sneered at Eren at those last words. Zachlay turned to the short man who'd been standing quiet in his corner of the courtroom, looking bored as he rearranged Historia's desk for the fourth time.

'Lance Corporal,' Zachlay called.

'Hm?' Levi asked nonchalantly.

'Levi, your client needs his avocat. Where is your defense? You were to vouch for him, weren't you?'

Levi scratched his chin and his throat hummed out a sordid chuckle.

'Defense, huh?'

He turned to Eren and strode over to the younger.

Levi looked up at him finally, his gloved hands buried in the pockets of his trouser.

Green eyes met grey in puzzlement.

'Eren,' Levi said, grabbing hold of the boy’s maroon shirt by the collar.

'...Yeah?' Eren asked and immediately wished he hadn't.

'Strip,' came the illicit command.

There was a pause. Eren gawked at him, opening his mouth and closing it promptly.

'Wait. What?' he mumbled.

 

* * *

 

 


	14. Stripped

Chapter-14- Stripped

~.~

The older man was clearly not joking.

Levi gave him a pointed look when Eren didn't oblige (because the peace keeper was sure as hell not stripping in a room full of strangers; he wasn't an exhibitionist, didn't plan on becoming one either especially amidst sadists who were chanting guillotine! guillotine! under their breaths like a broken TV recorder). Eren resisted and went the pallid shade from tan to sickening pale as Levi nudged his elbows out of the way. The older decided to take the initiative himself. The brunet shook his head violently to emphasize 'Fuck no, Levi, he wasn't going to do this. Not in front of all these people' and would probably die from the mortification of whatever the man planned on doing in the next five glorious minutes of his life.

The shorter man regarded him with that cold, challenging look of his. Oh, Eren knew that expression well, and the young trooper winced inwardly from the knowledge. There was no denying the grey pools of doom once they were set on something. He knew that from personal experience. He'd have better luck convincing Armin to quit his hero worship of Darwin.

The buttons fell apart.

Small, insignificant just like the way Eren felt now.

'Corporal,' protested Eren, voice soft and shaking. '— Levi, I don't understand why this is necessary—'

Levi didn't try to explain. There was not an ounce of embarrassment, not even second hand, in that straight pokerface of his. Instead, Levi shifted and slipped behind the keeper, leaned into the small of Eren's back and went to work quietly. Gloved fingers groped around the edges of his shirt, pulling them free from the waistband of his pants and tugging the shirt off.

Eren growled a low, guttural sound.

He was way past the stage for honorifics, mutual respect and pretending they were not related. If Levi was going to publicly humiliate him, then, well... screw him as well.

'Levi, dammit, what in the world are you thinking—' his breath hitched.

The shirt came off with difficulty because Eren’s right arm still dangled like a puppet's. He was left bare-chested in the middle of the Court of Justice, amidst the well-dressed men and women of Titan society, the Military Police, oh god the clergy and the PeaceCorps. All while Levi tossed the discarded shirt to Historia. The petite girl caught the offending garment in shock, squeaked like a church mouse when she realised she was actually holding it and went as red as a tomato.

Eren could give her competition in that particular department. Hey, at least, the princess got to keep her shirt on. Not like Eren here.

Eren had not been aware of the cold draft in the room. Not until now. He shivered and felt the goose bumps rise along his skin. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, hoping, pleading, desperately praying that his nipples wouldn't go hard.

Brain. Don't think of anything remotely sexy. Don't think of the people here. You're in a room with potatoes. Warm POTATOES! Potatoes with clothes on but that's a minor drawback. Remember, there is nothing sexy about potatoes. Don't think of anyone. Especially not the arrogant, giant dickhead standing behind you.

Exposed nipples and armpit hair were embarrassing enough, and he was sure if he didn't die by the chopper, he sure as hell was never going to be able to face any of his fellow comrades again.

Oh yeah, what was that thing on the floor?

His dignity, dammit.

Through all this inner turmoil and mental chastising, a warm hand slipped in front of his eyes, tilting his head sideways and blocking Eren's view of the court. And the strangest part, Eren was thankful for it, grateful for Levi's gloveless hand. Levi, despite being a massive prick, had recognised how this was affecting him, had reached out and covered Eren's eyes. Eren was sure he'd felt Levi's lips at the back of his nape, barely there, urging him to be silent and patient.

'Try not to get over excited,' Levi whispered in the smallest of voices.

Oh, there goes his potato theory.

'Fuck you,' Eren whispered back.

Levi's other hand began to unravel.

Not his pant's zipper, thankfully.

But the bandages on his right arm.

Eren had seen the military nurse struggle with it, a rather brusqueness in her manners of dealing with him. But Levi was different. The Lance Corporal wrenched the long strip free, rolling it away with care, his touch feather light, and the further he went, the more Eren began to lose track of what was really happening with that arm of his. Eren had decided to let his better judgement join his dignity on the ground. Maybe they could have a sort of housewarming party with Historia's broken dreams of a husband, two children, a white picket fence and a dog. Yeah, that should be fun.

In all this fiasco, Eren heard the breakout of protests from all around the gallery especially the jury.

He wished the stupid couch potatoes had protested a little earlier.

'This is OUTRAGEOUS! Are we going to sit around and watch this man make a fool of us?'

'Is this a pimp show?'

'Oh, I don’t know. Son's got good abs though.'

'Martha!'

'What? Just because I'm sixty, doesn't mean I can't look at the menu!'

All this while Pastor Nick seemed to have been possessed by demons and was chanting vigorously under his breath. The cult priest tried to get himself heard over the scandalised murmurs, his voice rising in treble and volume.

'Oh, by word of Titania, by grace of Mael, Creed and Nyse, let the sins be barred from entering this land. Do not get drunk with wine, do not s-sleep with the world. Alas, v-virtue of yesterday, where have you been wronged? T-teach us to walk properly, as in the shallow yews of day, where light is sparse, not in sexual immorality and baseness. Come to us in shadows, come to us in the thick of dark, save us—' Pastor Nick muttered frantically.

Eren heard something fall to the floor, and the murmurs stilled. There was a nervous silence in the air, icy and fragile, no one wishing to pierce it with the slightest sound. Coughs were swallowed, sneezes were curbed, and protests left stifled.

Levi walked to his right, his hand still covering Eren's eyes.

There was a sigh, and Levi settled into his characteristic brooding.

'Corporal,' Judge Zachlay began, 'I will not have you mocking my court like this.'

Eren heard the gratuitous smirk in Levi's voice.

'You asked me for defense. I'm giving you my defense.'

'Through a strip show?'

Levi made a sound of annoyance.

'I can assure you that the brat here is more embarrassed by this than any of you. I can assure you because I've known him long enough. He is my ward. I've watched him train for years, personally whipped his ass to shape myself, seen how he approaches life and the dogged values that this State holds so dear. Jury, I present to you Eren Jaeger, Proud cadet of the PeaceCorps, who has put his life on the line more number of times than you ever will. He has made mistakes, yes, but those don't affect you alone. See the wounds on him. See the pain and suffering he hasn't talked about. Because some things need to be shown rather than heard.'

There was a long, hard silence.

Everyone in court five was rendered speechless.

'I’m asking one last question to the Court of Justice,’ Levi’s voice cut through the silence. ‘Is this a trial of Eren Jaeger, the soldier? Or is this a trial of Eren Jaeger, the Earthborn? The difference is as wide as a mile, you judgmental creeps. And if you send him to the gallows for a stupid reason like that, well...' Levi paused in bitterness, and his voice took a dangerous edge here. '—then, to quote our dear Pastor Nick, your god won’t be the one to save you folks. Because I will come to you in shadows, I will come to you in the thick of dark and I’ll make sure none of you manage to walk again... I rest my case,' he finished abruptly.

Eren felt the hand over his eyes fall away.

Levi wrapped his own coat over Eren's shoulders and without a word, left his side. Eren watched him in a mix of emotions he couldn’t find the words to express. He let his left hand grab a fistful of the coat, feeling safe in the warmth it offered.

His short-tempered husband, the revered Lance Corporal, walked over to Historia. Probably to rearrange her desk for the fifth time.

 

 

Niles Driscoll was furious.

'Sir, Judge, Supreme Commander, he just... he just intimidated our jury!'

But Judge Zachlay looked tired and weary. He gestured towards Niles to sit down. The greying man with the scrawny beard and wire rimmed glasses turned to the jury booths.

'Jurors, you've heard both sides of the argument. You may now decide the fate of the accused by a show of hands. Those who think Eren Jaeger should be acquitted, freed of all allegations?'

There was a pause.

Eren stared at the floor, feeling the lump in his throat. It wasn't until he heard Hanji's elated 'Yes! Eren! Look, boy, look!' that he mustered the courage to look up.

Hands. So many of them.

More than... half. Historia, ever the graceful angel of court scribes, saved him the effort of counting.

'Twenty four,' she announced for the benefit of the judge. Twenty four out of thirty.

Judge Zachlay looked like he'd bit out of a sour lemon.

'Hurm, and those in favour of the charge sheet?'

Two hands raised themselves.

One of a merchant trader, who mumbled curses at the others. The second was of course the homophobe— Pastor Nick who was still chanting verses from his religious book.

The four who had not voted for either side, sat petrified and shivering, Levi's threat echoing in their heads probably.

Judge Zachlay gave a resigned sigh and turned to Eren.

'The jury has decided. Eren Jaeger is reinstated into the PeaceCorps and is free to go. Court dismissed.'

 

 

Levi was leaning against the wall, beside the double doors to the court of hell. He watched the guards, dignitaries and high ranks shuffle out of the exit, marching their way past him, afraid to even look at him askance.

'Good work in there,' said Erwin, the tall commander of the PeaceCorps, meeting him outside. 'I don't always approve of your methods, Levi, but I must admit that they are effective. We're winning battles, however small they may be. By the way,’ his voice dropped low. ‘Levi, I got a call from the hospital. Erd and Gunther are responding well to treatment is what I'm informed.'

Levi nodded listlessly though he was glad to hear it.

'Drop by my office later, and we can review the situation on Leonhart,' Erwin said, reaching out to give his shoulders a squeeze. Levi watched him move on, disappearing down the corridor with sniffing Mike trailing behind him.

Voices broke through his thoughts.

'Eren! Your nipples are rock hard!'

'Shut up, assholes! Marco, Thomas—I swear, put me down, you guys!'

The corps were celebrating outside courtroom five, Marco having hoisted Jaeger over his and Thomas’s shoulders and spinning the boy around in circles. Eren was still wearing Levi's coat and the long sleeves flapped as Freckles rejected Eren's pleas to be put down. There was a din of laughter and jubilation in the air, and Levi heard Petra telling the brunet, 'See, I told you, didn't I! They couldn't charge you, Eren! They had no case from the beginning!' while Oluo took a relieved swig of his flask and demanded a fresh game of Checkers when they got back to HQ.

But what really caught Levi's attention was Eren.

The idiot was laughing.

And Levi didn't remember the last time he'd heard Eren laugh. He had missed it, and he knew he was going to miss it again. His grey eyes passed to Lady Justice, her wings of freedom and the balance held in her arms. It's time, she seemed to be telling him. It’s time. The doors opened again, and Judge Zachlay walked out like a regent, his aides close behind him. The Supreme Commander scrunched his nose up at the sight of Levi as if he’d encountered a particularly disgusting case of roadkill.

'I have let it pass, Levi. Your obstinacy,’ the man told him, his perfunctory gaze traveling between Eren and Levi. ‘But the next time you decide to make my court a vaudeville circus, I will strip you of your colours and send you back to the streets like the mongrel you are. Remember it, Lance Corporal.'

Levi smirked despite himself, grey eyes turning towards Eren, who was watching their little exchange tensely.

'Reverent Judge, you are mistaken,' Levi drawled, flicking a speck of dust from his white sleeve. 'There is really no difference between the dog from the street and the dog of the state. Kick either, and it will bite back. Hard.'

Zachlay gave a snarl and shook his head. Turning his back to them, he left with his aides.

Hanji made her way out of the noisy celebrations and sidled into the spot beside Levi.

'By Nyse, that nipple joke doesn't get old. Your ward is so _so_ easy to tease,’ her voice mellowed into seriousness and she gestured to the retreating entourage of the magistrate. ‘What was that about, by the way?' she asked, removing her glasses and wiping them clean.

Levi shrugged.

'The usual. The State reminding me how much it loves me and shit like that.'

Hanji Zoe watched Levi from the corner of her eyes, observing him astutely. She put her spectacles on and motioned towards Eren.

'Talking about love and shit like that, aren't you going to talk to him? Now?'

Levi said nothing, but his lips twitched upward.

'For _now_ , Hanji, we're going home. Emphasis on _we_.'

The double doors opened a third time and Levi noticed a black robed man emerge out of it, quietly, discreetly, hoping to not be noticed by the drivel of human filth and vice around him. It had been a trying day for the clergy man and the burden of defeat evident from his slumped shoulders.

'Pastor Nick,' Levi called loudly. 'Leaving already?' he asked in a sing song voice.

The clergyman was startled; he shuddered at being noticed and turned to Levi, giving him a revolting look. Nick arched a refined eyebrow at him.

'What do you want, son of sin?'

Levi’s smirk only widened.

'I hope you enjoyed the show. If you want the uncensored version, I can give you an address,' he proffered with a wink.

The priest muttered indignantly under his breath, breaking into a fresh round of passages from his book. Scuttling for the hallways, Pastor Nick turned a corner swiftly and in his desperation to leave quickly, he almost tripped over his robes in haste.

'You're a horrible, horrible man,' observed Hanji.

Levi turned to Eren, who had been put back on his feet again. The man’s storm grey eyes watched the brunet punch Marco in his bicep. There was that laughter again, radiant and happy.

Sunshine.

'Yeah, I am,' Levi admitted solemnly.

 

* * *

 


	15. Home

Chapter-15- Home

~.~

It had always been a small apartment. Small, humble but precious in its way. A single bedroom with a balcony attached. Walk five steps, and there’d be the island kitchen; three strides and he’d arrive in the living room. He knew the place like the back of his hand. Eren stared long and hard at the number plate on the front door. 1263. There was no name to go with the number; a good thing because they wouldn't want the neighbours to think they were in Titan’s military. Levi called it 'Living Undercover'. In fact, Mrs Izzy Norman, their batty neighbour from next door, was to this day harbouring the illusion that Eren and Levi were working for Trost Tax Administration. The idea amused him. He wondered what Mrs Norman would say if she discovered them to be soldiers. And that one of them was not even a Titan and had just barely escaped being court-martialled this morning.

The door to the apartment was open. Eren could hear Levi tinkering around in the refrigerator. Possibly, storing the P87 Ruger from his holster and putting away the manoeuvring gear in a safe place.

Eren remained by the door, gazing at the number plate with unbridled nostalgia. The court scribe Historia did return his shirt (the girl still painfully embarrassed about the incident), and Eren had thanked her awkwardly.

And yet, as Eren Jaeger stood there in front of the apartment door, he opted to keep his guardian’s coat wrapped around his shoulders. A fact Levi mentioned one time too many on the drive back. But Eren had no intention of returning it.

'Hey. Finders, Keepers,' Eren argued.

'You didn't find it; I gave it to you,' came the swift retort, and the banter continued.

Had things not gone their way today... If he'd been charged with treason, worse banished from the world of Titan, what would he have done? Eren didn't want to dwell over it. Over what the consequences could have been.

Right now, he was here. And this was the only place that made him feel safe and complete. The only place that gave him the notion that he belonged somewhere at least. The last few years had been a rollercoaster ride, tossing him back and forth between the two worlds. Part of him wondered if he could even fit anywhere. Earth was his natural domicile, the mother earth that brought him up, and Titan— where he would apparently die. His friends back on Earth didn't have a clue about this other life of his (except for Armin who seemed to harbour suspicions).

Eren hadn’t yet mustered the courage to tell his mother either.

And then, there was Titan… the Utopian State with its skyscrapers, cyberpunk inventions, and a government which harboured a strange animosity towards Eren Jaeger. There were its people— the Titans: his comrades, superiors and peers who had believed in Eren and fought to defend him. So, where was home in this jumbled up mess?

He didn't notice the sounds from the apartment dwindling down. Nor did he notice the shorter man sauntering back to the front door. Levi glanced around the hallway coldly and finding them alone, turned his attention to the brunet.

'Are you going to stand here the whole night? Don't blame me if your dinner gets cold.'

Eren beamed at the mention of dinner.

'You were… cooking?' asked the peacekeeper, lighting up instantly.

Levi scowled.

'Food doesn't magically appear on our plates, dunderhead. Someone must cook. And since you've transformed into a one-armed freak show, that someone ends up being me.'

A small, involuntary smile flitted across Eren's lips.

'What?' Levi demanded suspiciously, not liking the smile at all.

Eren rocked on the balls of his feet, leaning in close so that their noses could touch.

'Welcome me home,' the younger urged in a serious tone.

Oh, if looks could kill… Eren Jaeger was dead. Free but still a dead man.

Levi rolled his grey eyes at him and wrapping a hand around Eren’s nape, he indulged the boy’s request.

'Welcome home,' Levi mumbled.

Eren grinned. 'I'm sorry, did you say something?'

The hand around his nape moved to box his ear.

'Welcome home, moron. Now, if you're done being all sappy and shit, can we get in?'

Eren winced, pulling out of the arm hold and rubbing his ear with a good hand.

'Ouch, you forgot to quarantine me, jackass.'

Levi arched an eyebrow at the brunet. With a sigh, he rummaged through his pant pockets. 'I didn't realise you liked being frisked so much,' he said, drawing out the scanner and a tissue from his pocket. Levi knelt on the doormat and held up the quarantiner. He ran the device over Eren's body, from feet to shoulder. Years ago, Eren had thought of the machine to be some sort of a breath analyser. But the quarantiner could do so much more than just measuring alcohol in his breath. At the end of the scan, Eren opened his mouth as was customary and let Levi pop the device in. The youngster closed his mouth with a self-gratuitous smile that was sure to tick off the Lance Corporal.

Levi crossed his arms and leaned back against the door frame, and the two waited for the results.

They watched each other in the silence of the hallway. They watched each other in the weight of unsaid words. And they kept watching, waiting for the other to break eye contact. Levi, grouchy as usual. Eren, spirited and high.

The same old ritual. At first, Eren had hated this demeaning practice. But over the years, he’d internalised so much about Levi that he began to miss these little oddities and extremities in Levi's character when they were apart. Like Levi's insistence on quarantining Eren every time he returned from his six-month break. 'No offence, cupcake. I don't want you bringing any of your Earthly diseases or germs to my apartment,' Levi had told him the first time... at which Eren had growled against the condescending treatment. Our apartment, Eren corrected the man and gone on to defend his world at length. That sickness and filth wasn't all there was to Earth. That there were blue oceans with sharks, tortoises and the blue whale… that there were snow peaks like the Alps, Fuji and Everest. There were amusement parks too where you could scream your head off, and duckponds that keeled over with ice in winter. And that, Oreos and Tacos were possibly the best inventions mankind had come up with; that skinny dipping in summer was a coming of age ritual. Eren would have gone on to list more of his favourite things, but Levi had shut him up with a kiss, making him forget whatever the hell was supposed to be his _next_ favourite thing about his planet.

To be honest, Eren missed that kiss.

The scanner gave a small beep, and Levi took it out of Eren's mouth, reading the display.

'— Tuberculosis, no. Urinary tract infection, no. Cancer, no. AIDS, no. Syphilis, no,' Levi read the display. He returned the scanner to his pocket and indulged Eren with a smile.

'No STDs. You haven’t been sleeping around on me, good.'

Eren narrowed his eyes.

'Oh, trust me, sir; I have had my fair share of temptations.'

'Did you now?' Levi said, smirking and not believing a word of his.

And lo, there was that godawful, infuriating smile of the man. Eren had missed it so damn much.

Eren brought his good hand up, to caress Levi's cheek and leaned in, surprising himself and even Levi by his sudden impulse to kiss the older man. But there was a glint of light in those grey eyes; Levi shot out a warning 'Careful. Mrs Norman at eight o clock.'

Eren aborted, looking around.

'Huh? Where?' the younger asked, startled.

He peered around the hallway but found no one watching them.

The diversion was all that Levi needed to slip from between Eren and the door. Chuckling, he ventured back into the house, leaving Eren furious at the door.

 

* * *

 


	16. Time Machine

 

 

Chapter-16- Time Machine

~.~

Something was not right about the apartment though Eren couldn't put a finger on what that was. Everything was in the usual place. His wardrobe was intact, Levi's promises of throwing his things down the chute turned out to be empty threats, thankfully. The fridge still had that fruity jam smell, which Eren was quite fond of. And Levi hadn't got rid of his pictures yet (a small sign that he was still in Rivaille's good books). So, what the hell was missing?

Eren looked around the empty space, and the house seemed to answer his lingering question.

There was no barking.

There was no barking because there was no mean mecha dog to boss him around.

'Levi,' Eren called to him in surprise. 'Hey Levi, where’s Krobe?'

Levi sighed. 'Battery down. Had to put him in the broom closet,' he answered, clearing the dishes off the table. The older man's penchant for neatness and order was lost upon the younger.

On any other day, Eren would have snorted at this behemoth tragedy. He and Krobe had not got along ever since they first met. The droid mongrel had taken on a special vendetta against Eren, barking at him, chewing his favourite socks to shreds and pissing oil in his tub when he wasn't looking. Levi had called the two of them— the bickering, adorable shitheads of his life.

But today, as Eren looked at the closed doors of the broom closet, he was surprised that he kinda missed the stupid dog.

'Must be dark in there,' Eren trailed, returning to his dinner.

The remark didn't go unnoticed. Levi looked up at him sharp and watched Eren for a long, curious moment.

'If you're lonely... Maybe I'll get him fixed,' Levi said, as he passed by the couch.

Eren broke into a smile when he felt a hand ruffle his brown hair.

The telescreen was on. Levi had the news on mute. It defeated the whole purpose since the raven-haired man wasn't even in the same room. Levi was holed up in the kitchen, engrossed in doing the dishes with his back turned to the living room. The sound of the running faucet, overflowing soap suds and furious scrubbing gave an eerie voice over to the images on the telescreen.

Eren sat on the couch, his legs folded beneath him. He felt pretty much useless. And Eren was beginning to think, he _was_ useless. After a long overdue shower and struggling with the faculty of one good arm, he pulled himself into grey slacks and a Guns n Roses t-shirt (a symbol lost upon Levi who asked if it was some sort of an Earthen cult thing).

Nope, just rock n roll, Eren muttered back.

With his left hand, Eren picked at his plate of cream stew and boiled potatoes. (Though he missed the irony about the potatoes).

The telescreen was broadcasting pictures live from city centre; the lens zoomed onto one man who was being harassed by the hounding press. Eren knew that man. It was the mayor of Trost. Cartridge was vindicating his order for slum clearance on the outskirts of the city, trying to reason with the media. The channel was transcribing his answers on the screen.

'It had to be done,' the man seemed to be saying. 'The human per capita was flagged as unsafe. There were illegal encroachments and unauthorized commerce underway. It had to be done,' said the mayor trying to validate his stand. One news reporter, a woman with flowing black hair, dressed in a bomber jacket, was relentless in her stream of hard-hitting questions.

'Does the State deny the intention of building luxury housing and a recreation centre in the District?'

'We did a cost benefit analysis and yes, we are looking at contractors who can rebuild the place from ground zero. I'm not going to deny it—' the mayor began.

'Mayor Cartridge, you've driven out a thousand people into Subpar Maria. Do you realise the implications on the food crisis, sir?' the woman persisted. 'That's a thousand more mouths to feed on uncultivable land.'

The Titan mayor's answer was gargled for his retinue of guards began to whisk him away. The press conference ended abruptly.

Eren glanced at his dinner plate. Great. Now he felt useless _and_ guilty. He gave the kitchen a side glance and while hoping Levi wouldn't notice, he scrapped the leftovers into a tissue. He rolled it up and tucked the ball into his pocket.

'Done!' Eren announced with feigned relish. He stood up and made a pompous entry into the kitchen. Levi turned briefly and studied him like an x ray machine. The grey eyes roved from the empty plate in Eren's hand to the noticeable guilt on the brunet's face and then... to the lump in his pocket.

'Tell me you weren’t thinking about going down and feeding the street urchins.'

Dammit.

Nothing escaped this man.

'Uhh...'

Levi shook his head and returned to the dishes.

'I won't stop you, trooper. But I want you to remember you've just got discharged from the hospital. You're not a machine like Krobe. You need your energy for the healing.'

Levi gave him a look askance and found Eren looking sheepishly back at him.

Levi sighed and wiped his hands on a towel.

'Fine. Come along. I was going down anyway,' said Levi, holding up a paper bag.

 

 

 

 

It was strange how poverty afflicted both worlds despite the distances between them. Maybe it was the human condition, one of the ills that Pandora unwittingly freed from her box and now, it was here to stay. Poverty did not necessarily mean ragged clothes and arms outstretched for alms. It also meant malnutrition and juveniles standing in the street corners, smoking pot because there was nothing else to do on a good Titan day.

Eren recognised some of the faces. Like Jo and Madri, both considerably taller than the last time he'd seen them. He watched as Levi knelt on one knee, reached into his paper bag and drew out loaves of bread. The children came up, some fighting to get in line first.

It was just the sort of thing that was sure to piss off the Lance Corporal.

'Okay, the next person who’s going to start a fight, gets to pick a fight with _me._ Line up,’ the morose man barked at them. ‘Eren, be a little useful, you brat.'

'Y—yes, sir!' Eren replied at full attention and helped with the law and order that the situation demanded.

Under Levi's glaring and Eren's half-hearted attempts at trying to look intimidating ( _My name is Eren Jaeger, guys, not faggot,_ he insisted. _And ouch, stop pulling at my hair. No, you can't call me Bagel either_ ) the group of twelve odd children quietened down, received their breads and left without a thank you or goodbye. Their small feet scuttled along the pavement, leaving the two grownups in the solitude of the alley.

Levi rose, crumpling the paper bag in his hand. 'Guess soup kitchen's run dry already,' Levi muttered and glanced at their skyscraper apartment tower across the street. There were shadows under his eyes, darker than usual and furrows deep like a reigning sadness. Eren had seen that expression before and to be honest, it worried him. More than he'd have liked to believe.

'Hey... Levi,' he called.

Levi tossed the bag into a bin.

'Hm. What?'

'I was just wondering. When you were living on the streets... was there—um— anyone to help _you_?'

Levi said nothing for a long moment and stared fixatedly at the gravel under his shoes.

'It's in the past so it doesn't matter. Why do you ask?'

'Because I care,' was Eren's defiant answer. 'I mean, don't I have the right to care about you? And listen, it's been on my mind a lot. What you said back at the hospital, about being truthful to each other. You know... Levi, I'm not the only one who keeps secrets in this marriage. You've never told me the whole truth either.'

Levi turned to the brunet, watching the younger with half lidded eyes.

'And what will you do if I tell you the truth, Eren? That yes, I lived among beggars, thieves and hookers. That yes, I had to trudge through the accumulated filth of Titan to survive. And that there was no one to help me or anyone else for that matter. What will you do, sunshine?'

Levi's eyes flashed dangerously as they met his in challenge.

Any normal person would have been intimidated by that expression. Would have shrunk away with their tail between their legs. But not Eren. Because Eren Jaeger had not learnt to keel over and die yet. Because he was persistent, reckless and foolhardy... even in love.

The younger shook his head determinedly.

'Then Levi… I’ll—I’ll just make a time machine, go back in time and become that person. Someone who could help you!'

Levi visibly froze at the confession, his stoic countenance unsettled by the frankness in the boy’s answer.

He watched his husband.

'You're such a—'

'—brat?' completed Eren, breaking into a playful smile. He caught hold of Levi's long sleeve and pulled him into a close embrace. Wrapping his left arm around the older's shoulders and squeezing with all his might, he refused to let go this time. Eren lowered his head and pressed it against Levi's forehead. 'This brat will follow you wherever you go, to the ends of the universe, Corporal,' Eren said, his gaze unwavering as he stared into the grey pools. 'Consider it a promise. Maybe even a warning.'

Levi smiled, despite himself.

'Says the bastard who can't find his socks on a good day.'

Eren let out a bark of laugher, and Levi was pleased to hear it.

'Fine,’ he relented. ‘I'll take your word for it... You better fuckin' come. Because I'll be waiting,' the older replied, pulling Eren down by the collar of his t shirt for a much overdue kiss.

The kiss had surprised Eren, suffice to say. Levi wasn't into public displays of affection, and the alley was not exactly the most sanitary in the world. Not the sort of place he had expected to get lucky, true. But he wasn't going to argue his luck at a moment like this.

Eren sighed into the kiss and pulled up his good hand to Levi's hair, raking his fingers over the undercut. He nodded, relishing in the warmth and softness of the mouth moving against his. He nipped and sucked at Levi's lower lip, the pent-up need for six months threatening to spill.

After a long and breathless moment, Levi pulled away a little, licking his lips and admired the impression he’d left on Eren.

The young man staggered to find his footing and catch his breath.

Yep, he'd totally missed this.

Eren went in for round two.

'Speaking of uh, time machines...’ he said, between playful nips. ‘You don't think Titan has one, do you? I won't mind going back in time and uh, rewriting my Fluid Dynamics paper.'

Levi mustered a scowl from somewhere.

'Eren.'

'Yeah?'

'Screw your paper. Not now.'

The peacekeeper grimaced.

'You have a point,' he admitted.

 

* * *

 


	17. Void Dreams

 

 

Chapter-17- Void Dreams

~.~

Eren was sanctioned orders of house arrest until further notice. It was Historia Reiss, the court scribe, who delivered the signed decree from headquarters, bringing with her not just the orders but her rose tinted, cheery presence that made the whole hallway sparkle and dazzle. Eren could almost imagine the lilies and violets blooming on the sacred spot where she stood. How did she do that, Eren caught himself wondering. Go from being a court scribe one moment to a virtual goddess in the next. Some people just had it good. The short, petite girl craned her neck over Eren's shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the apartment's inside. Her blue eyes looked long and far, secretly awed by the idea of Lance Corporal Levi cohabiting with someone. She couldn’t wrap her head around it.

She would have never believed unless she'd seen it for herself.

'I assumed Marco Bodt was pulling my leg,’ she said. ‘So, the rumours are true. You two are really... married?' she asked, looking half embarrassed and ashamed for being nosy.

Eren didn’t mind the question. He gave her a smug grin, resting his good arm against the doorframe.

'Married to each other,' emphasized the brown head. 'It's alright if you're surprised. I get why. Broke a lot of hearts when I decided to settle down with the jackass corporal from hell—'

'Eren,' warned a deeper voice from inside.

'Aw, fuck. He's angry. But hey, thanks for visiting,' the young keeper winked at Historia as he bid her goodbye.

Eren closed the door and ambled his way back into the apartment. He chewed off one corner of the envelope that Historia had delivered and drew out the contents. The letter came directly from the office of Dot Pixis, and he hoped it would grant him official approval to join the Leonhart assignment. Because God oh God, he needed to get back on his feet. He was getting restless being cooped up, and there was nothing more he'd have liked than to get back into gear and join the squad in their investigation. But his spirit sank as he read through the parchment. To quote it, word to word, Eren Jaeger, member of the 104th squadron of PeaceCorps, was not to engage in any mission until further orders. Instead, he was to concentrate on his physiotherapy, and asked to stay the fuck away from interstellar gates. Quote, Unquote. Dot Pixis.

'Ah, nice man, Pixis. Always had a way with words,' said Levi humorously, as Eren read it out to him the second time.

The brunet slumped into the couch in disbelief and tossed the folder to the table.

'I can't believe they've put me on house arrest. Why am I being treated like I'm a gateway mass murderer on the run,' Eren grumbled irritably, grabbing hold of the remote control and decided to vent his spleen over the telescreen.

Levi shrugged. He was sitting at the dining table as he tweaked around with Krobe's wiring. The robodog (which was what Eren called it) lay dissected, its bolts and circuitry scattered next to its artificial carcass. In the world of Titan, it was rare to find a live animal. Most pets were tame, android renditions of creatures on earth. Like how Rivaille's droid dog was modelled after a Rottweiler pup, with its slick black metal coat and mean looking eyes. The beady red orbs did not have the gleam of life yet, but once they did, Eren was bound to be on the receiving end of a stink eye.

Eren swirled in his seat.

'I mean, c’mon! What does the State have against me? Is this the face of a criminal?' Eren asked, pointing to his own face.

Levi arched an eyebrow, spat out the tail end of a wire and made that little almost-a-laugh sound of his. There were a million degrading ways Levi wanted to answer Eren's question, but the man chose to snort instead.

'Does that even warrant a straight answer, Eren?'

Eren scowled, clearly unhappy at the lack of support. He watched as Levi stood up, rubbing off the grime of machine oil from his hands. The older man reached for a sheet of paper tucked under a coaster and handed it to Eren.

'Here,' motioned Levi.

'What's this?' the brunet asked suspiciously.

'A list of chores to keep you busy. So, you don't get too bored at home.'

Eren whooped in sarcasm. 'You’re kidding, right?’

'No, I'm dead serious, rookie. I have to leave early, have to check on Erd and Gunther. After that, I’ve got a review with Erwin and the squad. You better be done by the time I return. Understood, trooper?'

Eren read out the list, eyes narrowing at the Corporal's scrawny black writing.

'Scrub the bathroom tiles, do the laundry, vacuum all the rooms... Jeez, Levi, you're really going out of your way to make me feel at home, huh? C’mon, I’m injured, cut me some slack.'

'Why Eren...' said Levi, almost cheerfully. 'Think of it as therapy.'

'Screw you,' piped Eren, frowning at the slip of paper.

There was a well-meaning pause.

'Oh, that's there on the list as well.'

'Wh—What?' the peacekeeper asked in chagrin.

Eren scanned down the list and to his mortification, he found it. The innocuous point between 'sort out the wardrobe' and 'water the helambury in the balcony.'

Make love when I get home.

Eren cleared his throat awkwardly, having never expected Levi to be so forthcoming about it. He pulled on his hoodie over his head, sank deeper into his seat and felt his cheeks go warm, his ears pink. Eren absently flicked away the brown hair falling into his nearly hidden eyes.

'You didn't have to... uh, _write_ it down, you know.'

The silence that followed was perhaps more embarrassing than the list.

Levi smirked and walked over to him, placing the metal dog on the coffee table. Levi closed the shutter on its head with a click.

'It was a joke, moron. Loosen up. By the way… I got you company.'

Eren watched on mutely as Krobe's dark eyes woke up to life, red light filtering through its orbs. The dog wiggled its limbs, flexing into its new-found life. Its gaze darted to its master, yipping in delight and obedience, and then moved to Eren where it stayed rooted. The peacekeeper could read the expression on its hard face. _Hello, scum_ , it seemed to be telling him.

 

 

 

 

To clean or not to clean.

That became the existential question of Eren Jaeger's life.

Eren sighed, wondering how he had landed himself in this predicament.

Squashing the demon of procrastination under his foot, Eren started on the chores list. He changed his bandages, put his right arm into a sling, covered his head with a bandana and with one hand armed with a vacuum hose, he got to work.

Eren admitted that he wasn't as meticulous as his partner. While Levi made sure that not a single dust ball survived the purgatory hell that Levi called 'cleaning', Eren was more of a merciful saint by comparison. A merciful and lazy saint, his conscience reiterated. Eren stuck his head under the couch, wondering if the vacuum hose could reach under it. The gap was a dark and narrow stretch, and there was not much leeway for him to squeeze the hose through. Which meant he had to move the furniture. Or, maybe he could choose to be thorough on a better day. Like when he had the faculties of two arms, yep. He didn't imagine there would be a major doomsday apocalypse if he skipped the tricky spots. Yep, the procrastination demon was back again. Why, hello to you too.

There was a bark.

Eren looked up from his spot on the floor, and found Krobe sitting on the couch staring down at him. Its metallic snout was held high while it snorted in disgust at him. Eren observed the curve of its head tilt, beady red eyes looking at Eren accusatively.

'Haha, oh, I'm on to you. I’m onto you, filthy human,' it seemed to suggest.

'You're going to tell on me, aren't you?' Eren asked of the dog.

Another bark which Eren interpreted to be 'yes, I am'.

Eren sat up, kneeling, resting his weight on his heels, and he glared at the dog.

'Oh yeah? Two can play this game, you little goody two shoes.'

Krobe perked one ear up, accepting the challenge. And without a warning, the droid dog leapt from the couch to land on the floor and scampered away, its little legs carrying it into the bedroom.

Eren watched it leave in amazement.

Had he finally managed to tame that mutt? Had he, at long last, managed to settle an eight-year feud?

Yeah... Maybe.

Feeling triumphant for the first time in weeks, Eren shifted to dusting the shelves. He came to a pause at the framed photographs. He smiled when he saw the one with Levi. He had snapped the picture at their first anniversary when Levi had taken him to that weirdass pub downtown, (Diablo, he remembered the name) and gotten themselves drunk silly. _Rivaille’s face when he smiles_ , said the caption. To commemorate their anniversary, they'd asked the burly, blond bartender Reiner to take two snaps of them with Eren's Polaroid camera. One was here. The other locked up in his study desk back home. Because yes, he was a sentimental dope whether he liked it or not.

His eyes roamed to the other two photographs, and Eren was elated to see his best bud and Connie shooting him the victory-sign. He wondered how Armin was doing. Probably, dissing Eren.

And then, there was his mother, a portrait he'd taken of Carla Jaeger at her bedside. His gaze lingered on this last one, and he felt a familiar guilt overcome him.

She must be worried.

Hell, he didn't even get a chance to say goodbye.

His thoughts were interrupted when a low growl emerged from the bedroom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Okay.

Note to self.

Never ever taunt a dog.

Especially a droid dog which knew exactly where you kept your favourite turtleneck and knew exactly how to make a chewtoy out of said favourite turtleneck.

The sweater had been shredded, mauled and the dog had left the remains for Eren to find. Upon making the discovery of what the little beast was up to, Eren gave a violent snarl, dropped his feather duster and chased after the sweater killer. The robodog was not an easy thing to catch, quick for its stupid little feet. But Eren had been trained by the best in the field. Yeah, if only Keith Shadis could see him today, trying to pick fights with a droid pup. Eren lunged, rolling on the carpet and finally wrestled the mutt into his hold. He scooped up the dog in his left arm and bounded for the door.

'Okay, that's it! Now, you’ve done it!’ he growled. ‘That turtleneck was a Christmas gift from my mom and you've ruined it, you metal freak. You're out, buster. Out, out, OUT—' Eren threatened as he crossed over to the front door, kicking it open and tossing the dog out into the empty hallway.

It landed with a squeak.

Krobe took a moment to pull its bearings together. It considered its new surroundings in horror and turned back to look at him mournfully. Krobe scrambled for the door as a last shot, but Eren blocked the opening with his feet.

He crouched low and wagged a finger before its metal face.

'Nuh uh. No way in hell,' he warned. 'You're going to sit there and think about what you just did, buster!'

Krobe whined and stared back at the peacekeeper with its puppy red eyes.

Eren felt his resolve weakening.

'Oh no, no, _no_. Don't give me that look, you spawn of Satan. I'm not going to fall for that.'

However Eren's voice had already dropped a sliver of an octave, and the pup’s whining was making it increasingly difficult to stay furious. His anger finally came undone when Krobe raised itself on its hind legs and wagged its tail in the astute sign of surrender.

Dammit.

Eren sighed, sinking down on one knee and tweaked the dog's ear begrudgingly.

'Fine, you win,' he admitted reluctantly. 

Stupid dog with its stupid wily charms.

Krobe leaned in to his touch.

Eren looked at it, forever amazed by the little wonder the droid was.

'Heh. You're like a real dog, y’know. I wish I could take you to earth and let Armin take you apart—'

Krobe let out a snarl, turning hostile instantly.

'Okay, okay, no taking apart. Bad choice of wording. Besides, I'd probably be breaking a million statutory regulations for trying to smuggle you over the interstellar borders.'

Eren ran a hand over the dog's cold neck, humming pleasantly to himself. In the silence of their home, he watched the lights of the hallway quiver from the voltage change. In a way, they were both stuck at home, weren’t they? Man and machine. Though Krobe did have a better personality than certain humans back on Earth. He'd take Krobe any day over horseface Jean's company. Eren wondered why he was being so sour today. This hiatus was affecting his spirits, Eren knew. He didn’t like being cooped up all alone.

But, he wasn’t really alone, was he?

He looked at the dog cradled in his sling.

Is that why Levi fixed him? To give him company?

Affection surged in his heart, and grinning, he pressed his mouth to the pup’s snout.

'You know the reason why we never get along?' Eren asked the dog, the corner of his lips quirking upwards into a smile.

The dog gave a shiver, which was kind of ridiculous for a droid.

'It's because we are both vying for that one guy’s attention. And I admit, I've always been jealous of you. Know why?'

Krobe perked another ear up.

Eren laughed and settled into a thoughtful silence.

'It's because...' Eren took in a deep breath. '—you got to meet him first. You're one lucky bastard.'

Krobe met his gaze with its beady, red eyes. Its fuzzy logic seemed to detect the mellowness in him.

'I know I've never appreciated you enough,’ Eren said to it. ‘But Krobe, thanks for taking care of him. Especially when I'm not here.'

The dog barked and ran a metallic tongue over his cheek.

Oh God, did it just lick him?

And in that moment, Eren knew they’d made their peace.

 

 

 

Eren found himself perched on top of a skyscraper, the sky lit in hues of red and orange. The dwarf sun of Titan was beginning to set over the landscape. A dream, he realised. Because this was no place he'd ever seen before. There were high rises all around— glassy, hollow buildings filled the horizon— each as alien and formidable as the other. Sunlight was dimming in the spaces between the skyscrapers, the rays of the dwarf star failing to illuminate its host planet. The city was getting slowly swallowed by the shadows of civilisation and the labyrinthine streets of the night city were lighting up like rivers glowing in the dark. The moribund city was almost beautiful... in a gothic way.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one enjoying the scenery.

Eren had company, alright.

She was there, standing on top of the reflecting glass tiles.

She turned to give Eren a knowing glance.

'Hey Jaeger. Good to see you're still alive and kicking.'

Eren stood frozen, blue green eyes widening. The woman with the blond hair looked at his vacant expression and sneered. Even as she puckered up and blew a raspberry at him, Eren noticed it. The green parka that she was wearing, and the key dangling around her neck.

Before he could even help, Eren felt his mouth twist into a snarl.

'Annie, you've got some nerve to show up! Don't you dare call yourself a PeaceCorp after all that has happened!'

Leonhart laughed at him. Shaking her head, she turned and walked towards him. Her strides carried no fear or loathing, her jacket rumpled by the winds of this altitude.

'Always keen to fight, aren't you?'

Eren took a ginger step backwards and realised that he was standing at the tip. And that he didn't have his gear on. His one heel teetered close to the emptiness below and he stared at the abyss underneath him. He couldn’t see the roads of Titan. Instead, the dark void expanded like a black hole in the space, its mouth gaping wide in anticipation.

Eren would have gone over the edge.

But Annie reached out in time and caught his wrist, holding him steady.

They stood there, former friends turned foes.

Leonhart held on to his wrist, and he felt a pain surge through it. His right arm, Eren noticed. This had to be a dream.

'Careful,' she told him, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

'What the hell, Annie?' Eren spat out, 'What are you doing?'

'We Earthborns need to look out for each other, don't we, Eren?'

'Yeah, right. Say it to someone you didn’t carve out days ago.'

Annie's blue eyes glowed against the hues of Titan’s magenta.

'Jaeger,' she cooed, her voice sounding deceptively calm. Leonhart reminded him of the ocean, calm but turbulent on the inside. 'You forgot about it, didn't you? Titan Repository, third floor, cabinet 'J'.'

Eren regarded her quietly.

Hell no.

Don't listen to her, his conscience urged.

This was the same woman who attacked Levi's squad. She is playing games with you.

'Annie, why did you do it? We were meant to protect the two worlds—'

'Protect?' Annie echoed in distaste. ‘You’re such a fool.’

Something flickered across her face, anger? Hurt? But the rage dissipated as quickly as it came.

'Titan Repository, Jaeger,' she reminded him, her tone icily calm. 'Go there, and you'll find your answers.'

She loosened her grip and smiling, reached out with her other hand to give him a light shove. Eren coughed in surprise as he fell headfirst into the abyss. Annie's smile widened as she watched him go down.

'Au revoir, Eren Jaeger,' was the last thing he heard her say.

He fell down leagues and leagues… but the ground never came. An endless tumble into the darkness below. Like the legions of dark seraphim falling into the pit of hell. Banished and forsaken. That was how he felt. There was the familiar chasm of the void again. Eren clasped his eyes shut, fearing for impact.

'Eren!’ called a voice, stirring him away from this nightmare of his. He knew this voice that never took ‘no’ for an answer. 'EREN!'

He woke up in cold sweat, his heart thundering in his chest. The darkness had dissolved, and all he saw was Levi staring down at him, the man’s fingers wrapped around his face. Levi hovered over him, cradling Eren’s head in his palms. He stroked Eren’s hair and rubbed at his temples, trying to ease Eren back into consciousness. The older man was speaking, but Eren Jaeger wasn't hearing any of it.

Blood rushed to his brain, giving him a massive headache.

Eren groaned and twisted under the covers.

'Hey!' Levi urged, trying to make him focus. 'You were thrashing in bed,' Levi said, his voice sounded hoarse as if he’d just been jolted awake himself. 'Are you alright?'

Eren detected the concern behind those words and stared at his guardian, feeling the vestiges of panic leave his system.

He finally raised his good hand to Levi's cheek and was relieved to feel the warmth of the living, relieved to feel the faint pulse of the man thump under his fingers.

He relaxed.

'Y—yeah. I'm fine now.'

 

* * *

 

 


	18. Half Truths

****

  
Chapter-18- Half Truths

~.~

While morning arrived in the world of Titan, darkness still reigned in the heart of Trost. And in the mind of one man. The clock struck five with a dull echo that rang hollow in the confines of their bedroom. The blue grey shadows roamed the walls, what Levi guessed to be partial silhouettes: of people, things, TJs, floating plantations and other decrepit elements of the Titan skyscape. He figured the blinds were to be blamed for that.

At some point, the young peacekeeper decided to use Levi’s arm for a makeshift pillow. The boy was settled into the crook of his elbow, snoring mildly into the older man's comfort zone. Eren's forehead had a faint crease as if he was trying to solve some intriguing midterm paper in his dreams, his lips parted in a not so aphrodisiac way and wisps of bed hair masked his shut eyes.

Levi bit back a grim smile, resisting the urge to straighten out Eren's hair for him.

It would be to risk awakening his ward. And after seeing the hunted and despairing look on Eren's face last night, the boy could use a good night's sleep. Eren wouldn't remain in the position for long anyway. The younger's propensity to toss and turn, (even kick Levi at times) was mildly disturbing.

Levi tried to roll away from the lump beside him, his morning rituals fixated on opening the curtains and ushering in the new day. No matter how caustic and grey the view was going to be, he would have to face it. Because this was home to him. The only home Levi had ever known.

But with Eren's hand slithered around his wrist, his troublemaker of a husband held Levi glued to the bed.

Levi watched the bugger in faint vexation.

He tried to wriggle free from the oaf's death grip, tried to coax him to loosen his grasp and when all efforts turned out to be futile, Levi finally conceded defeat and slumped back against the pillow.

Guess there's no getting away from you, huh?

There was a hint of a content smile on Eren's features… but the brunet remained fast asleep.

Levi looked at the hand on his wrist.

He gave the tanned digits a scrutiny, nudging them just a little, afraid to wake the sleeping young man beside him. But his fears were unfounded. Eren didn't stir, and Levi felt emboldened to inspect his features further. Because by Nyse, they didn't get enough time together to dwell on the subtle things.

Levi reclined against the bedpost, tracing the curve of Eren's fingers and ruminated over them in silence.

Eren's hands were neither fragile nor callous, he’d always known.

But they were bony and malleable, possibly the effect of adolescent years spent in training for the Corps.

Levi's grey eyes followed them keenly, going over from the pad of the fingers to the bump of the knuckles.

He was suddenly reminded of the time when the brat had stumbled headfirst into his life.

Eren, the fifteen-year-old teenager with his fierce spirit, and a goddam hero complex.

Seemed like ages ago.

Without thinking, Levi reached for the bedside drawer and shuffled through the contents as quietly as he could. He found the object he was looking for.

A metal band made of cheap silver.

'I don't have much of savings, so this will have to do,' Eren had told him, slipping the metal band on Levi's ring finger three years ago.

'And… what the hell is this supposed to be?' Levi asked him in return.

'A wedding ring, duh. Oh, come on, Levi. Don't glare at me as if I'm giving you some sort of a nuclear weapon of mass destruction. It's just a wedding ring but… but it means a whole lot to me. So, you better keep it!'

Apparently, Earthlings were fond of baubles and trinkets. Apparently, this piece of metal had been used as a century old symbol for marriage on the blue planet. On the contrary, alliances were much simpler in the world of Titan, whether they were matrimonial or strategic in nature. To get married, all you had to do was sign a contract in the presence of official witnesses, pledging to give something and receive something equivalent in return.

In the end, Levi did not wear the ring that Eren had given to him. He had reluctantly buried the ornament in his pant pocket. Because frankly, the thing embarrassed him. But Eren had kept his end of the bargain. The brat had been wearing his even when he'd got rescued from Gateway 22 and even as he was getting wheeled into the military hospital, bleeding precariously close to death. The ring Levi held on his palm now… was in fact Eren's.

Levi had slipped it off Eren's hand on the insistence of the medical staff.

'We need to take a scan. Can't have that on him,' the nurse had said.

Levi stared at the metal band, dim lit under the neon light.

Were all people on Earth so oddly sentimental?

If marriage was an alliance, a give and take like the Titans believed, what had he given Eren in return?

Nothing, said a quiet voice in his head. You've given him nothing but pain, lies and half-truths.

Levi was reminded of the balance in the hands of Lady Justice, the scale tilting heavily in Eren's way.

He heard Eren's breathing hitch, and the brat began muttering in his sleep. Something about pepperoni on pizza, whatever the heck that was supposed to mean.

At least he wasn't having nightmares.

What really bothered Levi was how thin Eren had gotten since his stay at the military hospital. He’d noticed it before, especially when he had to strip Eren during his trial. While the world had mocked and threatened Rivaille for his excessive indecency, all Levi remembered was being concerned about how thin this idiot had become. And here, under the cover of neon lights, he could see the difference. Levi reached out and grabbed a handful of Eren's t shirt. He yanked it upwards, freeing it from Eren's pants with a little whispering sound.

Yeah.

He placed his own hand over Eren’s stomach.

Taut as a wire.

Withered down to muscle and nerve.

Eren's exposed stomach shifted every time he breathed, sharply delineated muscles contracting and expanding in a rhythm.

Levi traced his cold hand across the bare skin and heard Eren's breath hitch.

It was enough to wake him.

Eren stirred, letting his eyes drift open. He looked down at the hand on his stomach and favoured Levi with a ghost of a grin.

'You know, Levi,' Eren's voice sounding throaty and gruff from slumber. '…if you wanted me that much, all you had to do was ask.'

Levi's expression was dark and brooding.

'Sleep well?'

Eren stifled a yawn and nodded, bed hair becoming increasingly nettled. 'Mm, like a log. By the way, I got your chores list done.'

'You finished all of them? I'm impressed. There is hope for your redemption yet, trooper.'

Eren smiled. 'Well… not all of them, Corporal. I believe there is one still left.'

Levi caught a fistful of the fabric of Eren’s shirt and tugged, reeling the troublemaker close. Close enough to breathe his scent, close enough to notice the hitch in Eren’s breathing again. He savoured the little sounds.

'So Krobe tells me you guys made up.'

Eren smirked, eyes cloudy as he shifted position.

'We had… an agreement of sorts,' replied the younger man, rolling on top of Levi.

'What sort of agreement?'

'Oh, I told him he could keep you in the day…' Eren said, lowering his head and administering a kiss to the mouth underneath. He let his hungry tongue swipe and plunder into the mouth waiting for him before pulling himself back. He licked his lips. 'While, uh, I keep you for the night. It was a fair deal, Corporal.'

'Nothing about you is fair, Jaeger,' Levi remarked, pulling his hands to the keeper's hair and burying himself in it, inhaling deep.

'Uh huh. Guess who I learnt that from?'

 

 

 

  
At some point of their night's exertions, when Levi ended up cocooned in the warmth that Eren called his lanky arms and the older man was showing the first hints of falling asleep, Eren asked a question, interrupting the post-coitus silence that Levi was fond of. He glanced up to meet turquoise green eyes, eyes that reflected spots of neon in their own brilliance.

Eren asked him a question; the words went unheard.

Levi sighed.

'Dammit, Eren. Can't you sleep after sex?' he asked wearily.

'Sorry,' Eren relented sheepishly. 'I was just asking if you knew where Titan Repository is.'

Levi said nothing, turning back to the blinds. Thoughts raced through his head. Why was Eren asking about the repository? Why now of all times?

‘Levi?' prompted Eren. ‘Uh, Rivaille?’

The man blinked uncomfortably. Eren didn't use his first name often.

'No.'

'Huh,' blurted out Eren. 'Is it me or did you just evade the question?'

Levi gave a mild shrug. 'No, never heard of it. Sounds like a crummy department holed up somewhere, probably with mountains of paperwork.'

Eren nodded.

'Yeah, well, apparently that crummy department is holding some answers for me. It's the only lead I've got on Annie. I think she wants me to go there.'

Levi felt something tic inside him. The first hints of fear.

'I think she also wanted you to die, moron.'

Eren winced and collapsed on his side of the bed. He lay quiet between the pillows. 'Maybe you’re right. She had her chance to do me away for good; she could have killed me that night… but the more I think about it. I think she let me go.'

'Eren, can you hear yourself talking?’ Levi snapped. ‘You're sympathizing with the devil.'

'Levi— oh, c’mon. I don’t think I’m in danger anymore.'

'Your orders are to stay at home.'

'But if you escort me or… or give me directions—'

Levi glared at him.

'Which I most certainly won't do. You are in no position to defend yourself.'

Eren opened his mouth and stared at him in disbelief. He sat up, facing Levi.

'Look, I'm fine now. Levi, I can feel my right arm a little. Surely, that should count as something. Besides, I survived this,' he indicated to the sheets between them.

Levi gave a 'tch'.

The smell of sweat, saliva and other body fluids lingered. Yes, there was no point pretending they hadn’t enjoyed sex after being apart for so many months.

'Yeah, well,’ the older trailed. ‘I'm beginning to wonder if this was prudent in the first place.'

'Oh, c’mon,' growled Eren.

But the older man had slithered out of the bed like a lizard. He sat down and began pulling on his pants while Eren fumed behind him.

'We’re done with this conversation, Eren. Erwin is in charge of finding the blondie. The best I can do is relay information to him and let Smith call the shots. You are to stay at home. It's an order from Pixis. Hell, it's an order from your superior, me, as well. I'd hate to see you try circumventing all of us.'

'Fuck you,' Eren seethed.

'I believe we just did, brat.'

This remark particularly did not go down too well. Furious, Eren swung his foot and kicked him out of the bed.

Levi grimaced. Granted, he deserved that.

 

 

 

 

  
The pub Diablo was about to close up when Levi sauntered in, a clear rendition of someone who did not get a good night's sleep. Levi had always carried the buggered look well. Now, he had taken it to newer heights. Levi slung the trench coat on the rack and sat down on a leather stool. The bartender, an easy-going chap with a larger than life personality and a bucket load of brotherly advice to give, glanced up at Levi in pleasant surprise. He was cleaning the glasses with a dirty looking rag whose hygiene standards seriously alarmed Levi.

'Heh, if it isn't the Lance Corporal from the Titan Corps. And to what do we owe the pleasure—'

'Shut the crap, Reiner. And get me the usual in a cleaner glass, for fuck sake. The stronger, the better.'

Reiner merely cocked an eyebrow and nodded, pulling up a glass. Reiner began pouring bourbon into it and surveyed Levi under his thick set eyebrows.

'Uh, I haven't seen the boy in some days. Isn't Eren supposed to be returning from Utgard, that's where he lives right?'

Levi considered him over the rim of the glass and shrugged.

'Maybe. Maybe not. Do I look like I'm keeping tabs on him?' Levi asked. He winced inwardly at the lie. How many more did he have to spew out each day?

'Heh, alright. Odd couple, you two. I miss the kid though.'

Levi stared at him, disgruntled. 'He's not a kid. He's got the kick of a kangaroo trooper.' Levi grumbled with a roll of his eyes. 'Wish he had stayed a kid though. Would have listened better and fuck, why am I telling you all this.'

Reiner let out a burly laugh that reverberated through the pub.

'It's one of my charms, man. Getting people to talk.'

Levi looked around the pub. Desolate as it was, there was someone else. A hooded figure sat in one of the booths, watching him keenly.

'Excuse me,' Levi told Reiner and strolled over to the booth, joining the stranger on the plush red cushions. Levi sighed when he saw the man in entirety. Of course, this was no stranger. The bangs of rebellion had been cut short, and there was the maddening light in his eyes. It had been a decade since the last time they'd worked together, shoulder to shoulder, hung up on ideals and drunk on fleeting glances of freedom, but it didn’t seem nearly like ten years now.

Levi leaned his head back, looking at the dark ceiling of Diablo.

'How long have you been waiting?' Levi questioned, bringing his glass up and taking a sip of his drink. His eyes roamed over the pub, making sure there was no one to eavesdrop on their conversation. Diablo remained deserted at this time of the day.

When he turned back to the stranger, his companion gave a smile and scratched his chin.

'I figured you'd come eventually. You got my message?'

'I did, and you're taking too many risks. Don't use Gale to send me messages. I don't care how encrypted the State thinks it is, the network’s not reliable,’ Levi remarked, his gaze flickering to the other man in mild irritation. ‘What're you even doing here, Church?'

'Serving you the reminder of a promise, Corporal.'

He spat out that last word with so much vitriol, Levi had to wince.

 

* * *

 


	19. Balcony Tumblers

 

 

Chapter-19- Balcony Tumblers

~.~

Keith Shadis, the baldie who'd taught them the ropes of manoeuvring and headed their training regiment, had once delivered an adage in that admirably eloquent way of his. 'Trust me, pipsqueaks. If you can't buckle up, you will _fuck_ up.’ He’d tower over them, barking instructions and spit over his hundred cadets. ‘That's right, ladies and gentlemen. As gratifying as it would be to see your mashed faces on my pavement; I like to keep my success ratio a few notches above Titan's standards, that is, a survival rate 10 out of 100. Always remember the checklist, dunderheads. Always remember the checklist, PeaceCorps!'

Eren was pretty sure he would never forget the darn checklist. Especially after Annie invaded his dreams and sent him spiralling off into the infernal depths from the top of a skyscraper. He was surprised that he was contemplating on doing this.

Eren stared down from the twelfth-floor balcony of his home. This wasn't the first time he'd jumped from here. And he vowed that one time... to never try a stunt like this again. Eren craned his neck over the railing and swallowed the dry lump in his throat. 

Oh boy!

The wind roared in his ears, and it was a chilling drop below. He could feel his palm sweating.

He couldn't even see the pavement, the smog of Titan's weather blocking visibility at thirty meters. All he could see through his foggy vision was— nettled laundry lines, a couple of ravespines perched on a window, shrivelled up flower pots and a copious amount of mist.

Alright, no point dawdling here. Let’s get this ball rolling.

If Levi wasn't going to help him find the Repository, he would go alone. Even if he had to die trying. Hell yes.

Eren put on his goggles and checked the gas in the pumps strapped to his back. Straightening his parka, he verified the leather belt on his tassel shirt and the climbing spikes of his boots. Eren had fixed his right arm into a sling, the only handicap in this grand scheme of things. He also wasn't taking the zirconium blades this time. He was going to go unarmed into Trost like a madman. But he didn't have much of a choice either. After his last bout with the law, Eren didn’t want to be accosted by the Military Police or give Titan any more reasons to court-martial him.

Yeah, he'd had enough of hearings and debauchery to last him a lifetime.

Just as Eren was about to take a deep breath and plunge, a bark sounded. Just when he had managed to calm himself and dive into the unknown, Krobe popped up. In one smooth move, the pup unwittingly managed to shatter his nerves.

Eren turned and found the droid dog scratching at the glass doors.

He sighed.

'No, Krobe,’ he told the droid. ‘You can't come,' he waved at it, gesturing the pup to return to the apartment.

The droid dog gave two barks and wagged its tail. _'Take me, renegade. Oh please, please take me along_ ,' it seemed to be saying, blinking fervently with its red optic senses.

Eren rolled his eyes.

He looked down and gave the perilous bottom a quick glance before making up his mind.

He was going to regret this. Oh, he knew.

He swung back over the railing, walked the stretch of the balcony, slid the glass doors and crouched on the floor. 'Climb on,' he huffed. The dog didn’t need a second invitation. It jumped into the fold of his sling, burrowing into his warmth. _'Yeahhh, that's more like it,'_ Krobe barked in approval.

Eren smiled as he closed the doors behind him and darted back into the open air.

'You ready?'

Krobe stretched its back, sniffing.

Eren didn’t stop to admire the heights again. He sprung over the helumbary pots, perched himself over the railing, and after tightening his hold on Krobe's metallic body, the peace keeper said a silent prayer. And then, he leaped.

As he went plummeting down, Eren Jaeger realised something. That Keith Shadis would not be so proud of him today.

 

 

 _'May day, May day,_ ' Krobe's panicked expression seemed to be telling him. _'Young man and dog plummeting to a nasty demise. Help… HELP!'_

Eren felt himself spiral dizzyingly, the cables from the gear refusing to dispatch. The winds roared in his ears and he struggled to get the gear functioning. He tugged at the booster behind him, grimacing as he fell through a clothes line.

Panic, emergency procedures and last wills flashed through his mind. Oh wait... speaking about last testaments, he didn't even own anything to leave anybody. What a pathetic thing to remember in one's last moments. And that depressing thought made his left-hand whirl and grope madly at his right hip. He nudged at the clamps and found the rusty glitch in his gear. He smoothed down the leather straps, and there was a whistling sound as something came undone.

Eren felt his body jerk, and he came to a hard stop.

Yessss!

Finally.

Booyah! Hell yeah!

Eren Jaeger propped himself with one foot on the wall for support. His eyes traced the extended cable and he found himself hanging somewhere between the sixth and the fifth floor. The whole of Brianne district stretched below him, a maze-like cropping of buildings and roads. He looked at his sling, to check if the dog was doing okay.

And a laugh escaped him.

The tumble through the clothesline had not left the dog unscathed.

Krobe gave him a disgruntled woof. It was trying to untangle its head from a polka dotted undergarment.

 

 

The Librarian at the Earthen archives was always delighted to see him. Eren was, after all, one of the few Earthborn acquaintances he had; and certainly the one who humoured the old crone the most.

'Mr. Jaeger! Why, it's good to see you, my boy. And what rare artefact from your world have you brought me this time?' the librarian asked Eren, wrinkled eyes twinkling as the young man walked in through the silver doors.

Eren held up the dog in one hand and grinned for old time's sake.

'Nothing but me, Mr G. Unless you want this little guy?’ he held up Krobe who wiggled in contempt. ‘I'll gladly give him away. Even for free.'

The Librarian scrunched up his nose at the dog and passed on the offer. His attention fell to the bandages on Eren's right arm.

'What happened to your arm?'

Eren shrugged. 'Long story,' the peacekeeper told him. He took in a deep breath and let his attention move to the shelves around them. 'There is a reason I came here today. I need information, sir. You know this place better than anybody, Mr. Grendall. Where can I find Titan's Repository?’

‘Repository?’

‘Yeah. I mean, have you heard of a place like that? Does it even exist?'

The Librarian straightened his crooked glasses and mused over the query.

'Eh, the Repository. Of course, it exists. Has the digital records of every damned person on this planet and the next.'

'Personnel records?' Eren asked.

'Yes, but it's restricted access. Not easy to get in. One of those obscurantism policies of the State.'

Eren's shoulders fell, his optimism deflating a little.

'Unless…' trailed Mr. Grendall, frowning to himself.

'Unless?' echoed Eren, brightening up again.

'There is a reporter. Hardworking young woman. But difficult to get on her good side. She might be able to help you.'

'Well, does she have a name?'

Grendall nodded, searching for the name in the archives of his memory.

'Yes, Ackerman. That’s her name. Mikasa Ackerman. I can contact her... if you promise to get me Oscar Wilde's works from your homeland next time!'

Eren took the man's hand and shook it energetically.

‘It’s a deal! Thanks a lot, Mr G. I owe you one.'

 

* * *

 


	20. The Hitchhiker

 

 

Chapter-20- The Hitchhiker

~.~

The reporter Mikasa Ackerman arrived at Trost Library of Earthen Studies in twelve point seven minutes. Grendall had told Eren to expect a young lady— pleasant and charming. She was young all right. But there was nothing charming about her as she walked in through the silver doors in her bomber jacket. Because as soon as her dark, onyx eyes set upon him, Eren felt like he was six again and had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Because Mikasa, though in her twenties and despite looking nothing like Carla Jaeger, was exactly like his mother in every other aspect.

'Oh Eren, what did you do this time?' he could imagine her voice going off in his head.

The woman had flowing, chin length black hair and a vivid red scarf wrapped around her neck. Her face was all too familiar, and he struggled to place it.

Eren soon remembered. This was the same woman who'd interviewed Trost Mayor Cartridge on television and made the stocky man sweat as if in a sauna. Today, she was wearing khaki pants and a plaid shirt under her bomber jacket. She also had one of those pagers strapped to her belt (He guessed it was not really a pager but another curious Titan invention, probably something to dismember sexual offenders on sight, Eren winced inwardly at the thought.)

Her dark eyes moved from antagonizing Eren to antagonizing the dog sitting on the counter. The droid balked under the woman's glare, leaped off the table and went into hiding behind Eren's feet.

_Krobe, you coward!_

Mikasa unrolled her scarf and sat down in one of the chairs of the library’s lounge. She looked at Grendall expectantly.

'You said you had a story?' she prompted the elderly gentleman.

The old Librarian gave her a placating smile.

'Now, don't blow your fuse. But I may have exaggerated a little, Mikasa.'

There was a change in her, almost a subtle flash of anger.

'Exaggerated? I was in Sina, covering a story on the crystal meth mafia. Who's this guy?' she said, nodding towards Eren.

Grendall gave her a buoyant smile.

'Ackerman, I would like you to meet—'

'John Doe!' Eren suddenly blurted out. 'My name is John Doe,' he insisted to the Old Librarian, wriggling his eyebrows hoping to get the message across. No, he didn't want to give this reporter his real name yet.

'John Doe?' the reporter echoed in disbelief.

The Titan Army had a love-hate relationship with the Press. They hated each other's guts, did not approve of the other's influence and were always trying to tear the opponent down before the masses. But the Press and the Army were much too valuable to be written off completely. The thinktank of media was needed to carry out the army's sting operations. And the Press was sorely dependent on the army to supply them with news worthy subjects for reporting. It was a perfect symbiosis despite their hateful way of conducting business with each other.

Eren didn't trust this woman, and from the way she was looking at him, neither did she.

'Peace Corp,' she mumbled after her long scrutiny of him. 'Don't bother denying it since the Titan Army sanctions manoeuvring gear only for their right wings, the Peace Corps,’ he didn’t deny this observation of hers. Mikasa studied him carefully. ‘Alright, John Doe. What exactly do you want from me?' she paused to look at her watch and resumed,' You've got two minutes to convince me before I walk out of here.'

Eren went pale and launched into his request immediately.

'Uh, I—I need your help. Grendall said you could get me into Titan’s Repository.'

There was a long, hard silence.

Mikasa pursed her lips, bemused by his request.

'Yes, I do have access. But what makes you think I will help you?' she barely looked at her watch. 'One minute,' she emphasized.

'Uh, you're a… good person?'

Mikasa stared at him darkly.

'Really? That’s how you’re planning to persuade me?'

Eren grimaced.

'I will… uh… pay you?'

Mikasa narrowed her gaze.

'Trying to bribe the press? I could get you locked up faster than you can spell 'Shiganshina', John Doe. Grendall, would you be kind enough to call the Military Police—'

Eren turned pale and went frantic. He brought his hands up to protest.

'Okay, okay. Look, my name is Eren. And I wasn't trying to bribe you or anything,' he bumped a fist on his forehead, exasperated with himself. 'Oh God, please don’t do that. I'm having shitload of luck with the law lately. I'd like to go to one place where people aren't trying to send me back to jail. I mean, is that too much to ask?'

There was a perceptive pause, and Ackerman had stopped looking at her watch. She brought her arm down and sat up, looking at him, revelation in her eyes. She gazed long at him, her shoulders easing as she regarded him in the silence.

'Eren,' said Mikasa experimentally as if testing the name. 'So, you're Eren?'

'Um… yeah?'

'Eren Jaeger?'

The peacekeeper from Earth squinted.

'Am I… famous, and I don't know about it?'

Mikasa let out a small smile.

'You're the suicidal bastard who tore down gate way 23. At least that's what my source told me. I heard they were going to guillotine you.'

'Ah… that,' Eren grimaced at the name. 'Nope, still alive. I guess they let me off the hook for now.'

Mikasa was still smiling in that strange, bittersweet way of hers. She stood up abruptly and began rolling the red scarf around herself again.

'Alright... I'll help you. But in return, you need to tell me all about yourself. I came here to get a good story, and I intend to have it. Do you have a ride?'

Eren scratched his nape awkwardly and shook his head.

'I was hoping I could hitchhike with you.'

Mikasa didn’t seem to find the idea appealing.

'Fine. But the dog stays, okay?'

Eren looked back at the droid and caught it looking sorrowfully at him.

'Sorry, Krobe. You heard her! Gotta do what the lady says. It's her call.'

Krobe whined and Eren sank on one knee to scratch it behind the ears.

'I'll be back, I promise,' Eren told the dog.

 

 

 

 

 

'Holy shit. This is your ride?' Eren exclaimed as they stepped out of the building. On the street, with street urchins gathered around it in awe, was a deluxe TJ780. One of the fastest airships in the Titanverse. That’s what the ads proclaimed.

'Uh huh,' said the reporter, putting on her goggles and climbed over its one wing to settle into her seat in the cockpit. The lithe woman straightened her jacket and looked at her watch again. Eren was still studying the airship's wings, amazed to behold the beauty. It was nothing short of beautiful, this airship. It was just the sort of thing that would have made him and Armin squeal in nerdish delight as they tinkered it apart. Turbo boosters, state of the art flanks, a virtually hidden propeller and top class ailerons. It was a real beauty and as cherry red as Ackerman's scarf.

Eren ran a hand over the wingspan.

'I always thought you'd have to sleep with an oil baron to get your hands on these. Or maybe sell two kidneys.'

Mikasa considered him coldly.

'Hey. Are you getting in or not?'

Eren worked his way past the kids and climbed into the passenger side.

Mikasa looked him over and sighed.

'Seat belt, Eren.'

The young man groused.

Yep, she was indeed like Carla.

'God, you sound so much like my mom,' grumbled the keeper but acquiesced to her rules.

The street children broke into 'oooh's and 'whoa's as they watched the jets turn on. The aircraft lifted off the ground in an upward spiral. Eren gave a cautious look outside the window. He wished he hadn't on retrospect. The Trost Library of Earthen Studies became a tiny blip in the landscape, and Eren felt the familiar wave of nausea hit him.

 

 

 

 

'I don't feel so good,' Eren said, clutching at his stomach. The constant change of pressure made his ears ache, and he'd long stopped watching the windscreen. The pattern of clouds was mesmerizing, the smog thick and he felt the bile creeping up in his throat. Eugh. For someone so attuned to working with manoeuvring gear, Eren was ridiculous with flying at these speeds.

Mikasa noticed his queasiness.

'Hang on, we'll be there in some time,' the reporter said, changing gears and slowing down the TJ for his benefit. She was awfully kind when she had to be.

Eren slumped against the dashboard and nodded his thanks.

'So, you're an Earthborn,' Mikasa spoke after a long, drawn pause. 'How did you come to Titan?'

Eren smiled under his messy brown hair.

'Stumbled on it when I was fifteen. Thought I got kidnapped or somethin’. He did send me back, but I had to find the place again,' Eren closed his eyes at the memory. 'The truth is I wanted to find _him_ again.'

'Him? Who's him?'

Eren went quiet.

'His name is Levi.'

The name elicited an expletive from the woman. The reporter turned to him sharp, her hand slipping off the console, and the TJ almost wobbled off course. She corrected the aircraft and glanced at him.

'Levi... Lance Corporal Levi? Rivaille Levi? You know that guy?' Mikasa asked, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

Eren cleared his throat.

'Uh, yeah. I guess 'knowing him' would be a gross understatement. I'm kinda married to him.'

The reporter's head swivelled to him a second time, eyes wide, her face registering shock.

'You're married to him?'

Yep, definitely Carla.

 

* * *

 


	21. Berium Rain

 

 

Chapter-21- Berium Rain

~.~

 

 

The clouds broke; Eren discovered that they were now flying amidst floating plantations. In this alien world of Titan, there was not much arable land or enough sunlight for natural photosynthesis. For the subsistence of the growing population of Titans, the native engineers and research scientists had the ingenuity to construct large, levitating land masses which supported crops, horticulture and groves.

It was apparently autumn in this dystopian world, for the deciduous trees of the floating platforms had begun to shed. Like the maple trees back on Earth shedding in the months of fall. The wind brought with it the stupefying rain of dry, red leaves. Eren watched the torrent of leaves flutter down like red snowflakes, falling towards the ground leagues below them. To be honest, Eren was rendered speechless by this vision. It was a breath-taking sight, like being caught in the eye of a benevolent hurricane ripping through farmlands.

Mikasa called it 'Berium Rain', however she didn't find it as awe-inspiring as he did.

The Titans found their meteorological events mundane, so ordinary. 

The reporter's attention seemed fixed on the dashboard. Looking troubled by the weather conditions, she suggested stopping at a gas station and waiting out for the rain to end.

'It may be pretty to look at… but it’s such a pain to fly in,' she had remarked, starting their slow descent to the ground. 'Trust me, I've lost too many of my peers to freak accidents.'

Eren didn't mind too much and was relieved to be back on solid ground anyway. As he unbuckled himself from the seat and cast off his pressure mask, Eren wondered if he'd managed to get on Ackerman's good side. He was feeling a good vibe, to say the truth. Though the reporter retained her guarded personality around him.

There was a small, rundown restaurant next to the gas station, and Eren offered to buy her lunch with his Titan money. The reporter had raised an eyebrow at this, and inquired if Eren was trying to bribe her again. Eren gulped. He shook his head quickly, breaking into profuse apologies, but Mikasa smiled, asking him to relax.

And that was how it had started. Their camaraderie of sorts.

Eren was pleased to have made a new friend. Most of his peers and acquaintances were from the Titan Army. He'd never expected to get along with someone from the Press. Which did make him wonder how many of the State's prejudices had any sound rationale behind them. 

Mikasa was thinking along the same lines. Eren's enthusiasm was infectious, his laughter enchanting, and as Mikasa ate through her bambitale quesadilla and eel lasagna, she was reminded of what her father had told her once.

'Aloofness is a besetting sin of our kind, Mikasa. The Earthborns are nothing like us. They trust easily and are so very attracted to the notions of love, kindness, friendship and second chances. All the things we consider to be _weaknesses_. In a way, it is a great irony of our civilization, child. We may be better connected than our Earthen counterparts-- more orderly, advanced in tech and industry, but... the Earthborns remain more humane than us.'

'Do you really believe that?' Mikasa had asked him.

'Yes, I do... Do you know why the interstellar gates exist?' her father posed this new question to her, surprising her back then.

Fourteen-year-old Mikasa had looked at him, puzzled.

'Uh, so that one day, Titans and Earthlings could mingle freely?' was her naive reply. 'So we could make contact?'

Her foster parent had laughed at her innocence.

'No, Mikasa. There is the tragic truth no one cares to admit. There is nothing benevolent about the gateways. Think about it. Once the dwarf sun fades in this land and never rises again the next day, Titan would become inhospitable to life. What will the State do then?'

The answer was as alarming now as it was back then.

'Invade... the other side?' she suggested.

Her father nodded, his eyes grave.

'Ms Ackerman. Yoohoo. You there?'

Mikasa found Eren waving a fork in front of her face. She blinked uncomfortably and nodded, trying to put away that old memory to the back of her mind. 'Yes... Sorry,' she said with a start, trying to regain her composure. 'You said something?'

Eren watched her in concern.

'Yes, Ms. Ackerman. I was asking you where the men's room was. I need to take a leak.'

Mikasa frowned at him.

'Don't.'

'Don't... take a leak?' Eren asked, cocking up an eyebrow, doubt lacing his tone. 'I'm not sure I can afford to do that. My tank's pretty much ready to burst.'

Mikasa paled, feeling embarrassment on his behalf. The boy was so oddly honest at times, it unnerved her.

'No, I mean you can call me by my first name. Please call me Mikasa.'

Blue green eyes lit up, Eren broke into a small smile before leaning over the table, his expression turning serious. 'Thanks... Um, by the way, Mikasa, there's a creepy possum dude sitting two tables down. He’s been staring at you the whole time. Just letting you know.'

Mikasa went still.

'What?'

 

 

 

 

Eren was feeling quite satisfied with how things were progressing. Though his sling did have its disadvantages especially when he had to attend to those semi-glorious calls of nature. He was engrossed in reading a dirty limerick written on the side of a toilet stall when the door opened and lo, behold, the creepy possum dude walked into the men's room, looking smug as he did. Nice, today's got to be my lucky day, Eren grumbled to himself, keeping his eyes to the wall. 

The young keeper ground his teeth and having done his deed, closed his zipper and approached the sink to wash his hands. The creep was beside him, and he greeted Eren amiably.

'Yo,' the man said.

Eren returned the greeting albeit stiffly.

'So, hey man. You with that hottie?' the guy asked, sneering.

'Huh? Who?' Eren asked.

The man tilted his head and cracked the door open, gesturing to the diner outside. 'Oh, you know. Black hair. Red scarf. Looks like a ballbreaker.'

Eren squinted through the gap and caught sight of Mikasa sitting at their table and gazing out the window, her expression thoughtful. Eren felt his temper flare. He snapped his head back and gave the fellow a look of utter revulsion. Eren pursed his lips into a thin line, staying determinedly quiet while imagining the hundred and one ways he wanted to throttle the man right here, right now. No Eren, you're on probation, he told himself. Don't go tempting the court again. Be good and stay cool. Levi wouldn't want to hear of you getting into trouble, right? Just count to three, and there needn't be any mishaps. Anger Management 101.  

'Oh, her...' Eren shrugged, deciding to play dumb. He turned to his reflection, studied it and tried to keep calm. 'She's pretty cute, yeah,' he replied, hoping it'd be the end to the conversation.

Of course, the creep wasn't done. Far from it.

'Cute? Shit, my droid kitten is cute. Now, _that_ woman is smokin’ hot. Makes you want to take her to bed and make her squeal. You get my drift?'

Oh, Eren got his drift alright.

_Just count to three._

_Remember the lessons,_ he vowed to himself, keeping his anger in check.

The idiot creep didn’t know when to quit talking.

'I think I've seen her somewhere before. Is she a celebrity?' the man frowned before curiosity gave way to a sinister lust in his eyes. 'Ha! Doesn't matter. I'd still wanna bang her like a screen door. Hey, you listenin’, kid?'

_Three._

'So, are you with her or not? Cos' I wouldn't mind going up there and chatting her up a bit.' The dude continued to illustrate what he would like to do to Mikasa, being plenty descriptive and colorful with his euphemisms. 

Eren could only stare at the man in disgust.

His expression didn’t go unnoticed.

'Hey man. What's wrong with you?' the guy caught his shoulder, annoyed by the expression on Eren’s face. 'You a chapero or somethin'? You gay?'

_Two._

Eren removed the guy's hand from his parka. It was then that the creep noticed the insignia on his sleeve. The man's eyes widened to the size of saucers. He recognized the wings of freedom.

'Eh, you’re military? A runt like you? You're bluffing. You've got to be bluffing, right?'

_And one._

Why, thank you, universe.

'On the contrary,' Eren replied, his face splitting into a wide smirk. 'I'm the real deal,' Eren announced as he pulled back his good arm and sucker punched the man right in the face. The creep went down like a ton of bricks and never got up again. 'Fuckin' prick,' Eren mumbled, flexing the fingers in his fist and stepped over the fallen man to head for the door.

He emerged out of the men's room to find Mikasa paying the tab.

'Berium rain’s let up,' she told him, motioning to the sky outside. 'We can head off now. By the way, what took you so long?' the reporter asked him crossly.

Eren placed a hand over his stomach and shrugged.

'Sorry. Blame it on my bladder,' he replied, grinning.

 

* * *

 


	22. Titan Prevails

 

 

Chapter-22- Titan Prevails

~.~

 

 

The building of the Trost Repository was a vaulted glass monolith bearing no windows. Stationed in the very north of the city, it stood formidable on a stepped plateau of red stone, posing shadows on the arid land around it. Mikasa parked her TJ780 in the underground hangar and tossed the keys to a valet (a young chap with fierce red hair who was caught between the tough choice of admiring the woman or her vehicle). Eren got the distinct impression that Mikasa was used to these kinds of missions. She walked suavely through the maze of corridors and hallways, her boots click-clacking on the glass floor. Like a pro, as if all this snooping around was second nature to her.

'This place is also called _The Archives_ ,' she explained to him along the way. 'You have to spend a lot of time here if you're in my line of business. Searching leads, following up on sources, uncovering truth.'

'And what exactly is your business?' Eren asked, mouth twitching upwards in good humour. 'Digging the dirt on people?'

Mikasa gave him a sidelong glance and thankfully, didn't seem offended by his quip.  

'You could say that. Hey, are you nervous?'

'No,' he lied, looking away from her. 

She was right. He _was_ nervous and felt intimidated to even be standing here. There was something about this place that sent a shiver down his spine. He wondered if it had anything to do with Annie. His former partner had been here before, and Eren wondered if the traitor was still lurking here in some corner of this labyrinth.

Eren followed after Mikasa Ackerman, trying to keep in step with her, and when she wasn’t looking, he lifted his right arm with the help of his left, grazing at the bandages with his teeth. It was an impulse to check on his nerves. There was nothing wrong with the bandages per say, but Eren found himself to be biting down on his right hand every time he felt exposed.  And right now, he felt as vulnerable as if he were stripped before the court of Darius Zachlay. Without his zirconium blades, he might has well have been naked. To make it worse, Mikasa advised him to leave his manoeuvring gear in the trunk of her craft.

 _There’s no point in raising suspicions_ , the reporter advised him. _Especially with the way you look._

Eren gave himself the once over.

'Hold on. What's wrong with the way I look?' he asked indignantly.

Mikasa looked him over again and sighed. Her final verdict deemed him to be a somewhat lost cause for humanity.

'Never mind,' she decided.

'No, seriously. What's wrong with the way I look?' the young keeper persisted, following at her heels.

They took the elevator up from the parking lot, and Eren watched the cab rise through the many levels of the glass structure. There were aisles, hundreds of them on each floor; bots with shiny heads were busy housekeeping the contents of those shelves.

He remembered his conversation with Levi from last night.

_Sounds like a crummy place with mountains of paperwork._

Except it was anything but that. The Trost Repository could very well have been a high grade security prison with armed Titan guards posted at every level. Each time the elevator doors zinged open and people stepped out, the guard outside the elevator door would tip their hat towards Eren's companion, recognising Mikasa on sight. The reporter was a local celebrity of sorts. If only Eren could cash in on some of that A Class treatment.

'You're like the Godfather around here,' grumbled Eren, burying his good hand into a pant pocket.

The woman in the red scarf didn’t catch the reference and returned a puzzled look.

'The what?'

'The Godfather. Marlon Brando. Don Corleone. Oh right, you wouldn't know about it. It's a famous movie about the mafia in my world.'

Mikasa gave him that impervious look again. The pursing of her lips into a thin line, her expression confounded. She pressed the letter 'R' on the panel, and the elevator began its slow ascent again.

'Eren,' she called as they waited for their floor to arrive.

'Yeah?'

'I want you to do me a favour. It's important.'

Eren flexed his left arm and pulled his fingers into a fist.

'Sure, Mikasa. What do you want me to do? Just name it,' he told her with a smile, readying himself for whatever she had on mind. 'Are we going to be breaking in? Cracking a safe open? Do you want me to punch a few noses because I can totally do that!' he proffered with enthusiasm.

Mikasa shook her head, a simmer of a smile appearing on her lips.

'All I want you to do... is to keep quiet while I do the talking. Agreed?' said Mikasa, turning her head to the front just as the elevator doors opened.

Eren found himself facing the wide expanse of a hall. It was not unlike the House of Senate. Large yellow lights hung from the ceiling, sheathing the place in brightness that blinded him.

'Agreed?' urged Mikasa, staring ahead.

She was seeking assurance before they could even step out of the elevator.

Eren nodded, deflating a little, troubled by the little faith everyone placed in him these days. He caught sight of the statue of Lady Justice in the middle of the hall. And above the marble figurine was the State's manifesto in two simple words.

Titan Prevails

 

 

 

But apparently, keeping his mouth shut was probably the one thing Eren Jaeger was not quite adept at. They had been at the reception desk for five minutes (Five minutes, Mikasa grouched, rubbing the bridge of her nose in disbelief) and the young man was already quarrelling with the lady behind the desk, pounding on her cubicle's glass.

'Look here,' the young man said, knocking on the glass partition that separated the visitors from the receptionist. Eren stooped to read the nameplate on the woman's desk, '— uh, Ms. Marianne Shinoda Lizst the Third, man, that is a mouthful to say. Your parents were drunk or something? No, it was a rhetorical question. You don't have to answer that. Look, lady, there is a file in your dusty shelf with my name on it. And if you could just get off your lazy bum and retrieve it for me, I'd appreciate it, Miss—' he floundered with the name again, before giving the nameplate a second glimpse ‘— uh, Miss Liszt.'

Marianne Shinoda Lizst, the Third, was unimpressed by his skills of persuasion and returned a cold look.

'Nope. Network is down. So, I can't help you,' she stated.

Eren growled.

'I'm a PeaceCorp, dammit.'

'Uh huh, right. And I am the Queen of Sheba, son.'

Eren cast a dark look at her.

'I didn't just jump out of my balcony, tow halfway across the city and kick a lecher's ass in a public restroom just to be told by an ice queen that the network is down, and you can't access it. Because that's bullshit. Gale never goes down, and you know it.'

He didn't add the bit about having done all that against the wishes of a certain grey eyed corporal (and husband) of his.

Eren put his hands on the glass and resorted to pleading.

'C'mon, ice queen, have a heart!'

Lizst The Third, turned to Mikasa and gave the young woman a look. A look which the reporter interpreted to be ' _Where did you find this kid, Mikasa?_ '

All Mikasa could do was shrug and returned a sheepish expression.

 _'Don't ask, Marie. Please don't ask._ '

Marianne cleared her throat. 'I'm afraid, Mr Jaeger, that while I deeply apologize,' and she sneered at him here, '— for all your little _inconveniences_ , but you know what, I really can’t help you, sweetheart.'

Eren let out an audible groan and kicked the glass in frustration.

'... And if you kick my booth again, I will sic the security on you, dearest.'

'Oh yeah? Let’s see you try.'

Mikasa was forced to intervene before Eren actually managed to get himself kicked out. Giving the boy a scowl, the reporter forced herself between Eren and the glass, and pushed him back; she turned to Marianne and flashed the woman a placating smile. 'Marie, c'mon,’ she cooed. ‘I know this is out of the blue, but you can do something. I have authorization so why can't you just pull up his file? We've done this before, haven't we?'

Marianne Lizst gave a tut and looked down at her screen.

'I'm sorry, Ackerman. But that's just the thing. The Titan Repository is home to the personnel files of everybody. And hell, I could get you the file on Mayor Cartridge himself. But,' she flicked a pen in Eren's direction, not missing her chance to scowl at him '—but not this guy.'

'Why?' Mikasa asked, frowning.

'Sorry,' Liszt replied. 'As per the records, the Eren Jaeger file has restricted access. Orders from the top brass.'

'Oh yeah, _who_?' Eren demanded furiously.

Liszt looked at her screen, scrolling down her virtual page to the citations. She gave a sour look and read the name out loud.

'Rivaille Levi,' the lady answered.

 

 

* * *

 


	23. A Mistake

 

 

 

Chapter- 23- A Mistake

~.~

 

Something broke. Like a wine glass toppled by an obtuse elbow, shattering down against the tiles of the Repository. Red was all he could see. But there weren't any shards around for miles. The boundless hall of Trost's Repository, a hallmark of Titan architecture, a tribute to its nameless gods, remained clean and spotless. Because what had broken wasn't anything tangible. or real. It was something else. His undiminished spirit, perhaps. The peacekeeper stepped back from the glass booth, and much to the surprise of everyone present, he stopped arguing with Liszt. For once in his life, Eren Jaeger turned quiet. Awfully quiet, finding himself at a loss for words.

A mistake, said the voice in his head. It had to be a mistake.

Yeah... a _mistake_. Even Gale, Godfather of Network Communication could afford to make one slip, right?

Even Don Corleone could err in his judgment, right?

Right?

Eren staggered backwards, clutching despairingly at his elbow.

Yet, what was this sinking feeling eating away inside?

Eren felt a movement beside him. Mikasa pressed a finger to her lips, motioning him to stay quiet. The black-haired woman caught hold of his sleeve and began pulling him away from the reception. Before leaving, Mikasa informed Liszt she wanted to run a lead through the archives for her crystal meth story and hoped it wouldn't be a problem. Liszt the Third shrugged in answer, flagging the reporter away with a careless wave over her shoulder. 'Sure, go right ahead, Ackerman. Just keep the kid out of trouble. Good day, people. Titan Prevails.''

Mikasa nodded at her and bustled out of the atrium, with Eren in tow.

The woman in the red scarf and bomber jacket led Eren down two corridors, streaking past closed doors with strange mnemonics on them. They passed a company of barrel-chested guards, who looked suspiciously at Eren, stared him down even, but the brunet didn't pick a fight this time. Mikasa led the peacekeeper into a deserted aisle. There was a sound here: a drumming, the sound of servers running below them; and the clip clop of Mikasa's boots sounded ominous in the silence of the glass walls.

And yet the silence only brought forth conversations in his head.

 

_Sounds like a crummy old department holed up somewhere._

 

Eren fought hard to stay focused. No, it had to be a mistake.

He squinted at the floor, trying to keep himself from sinking into a puddle of doubt.

 

_'And what will you do if I tell you the truth? What will you do, Eren?'_

 

No, _he_ wouldn’t. Levi wouldn't do that. He would never lie. Not to Eren.

Right?

 

_'My duty to the State surpasses everything else.'_

 

There it was again. The void threatening to consume him. He pressed his eyes shut and dragged a hand through his hair.

'Eren,' said the voice next to him. 'Eren! Are you listening?'

He realised they had stopped, and he’d been zoning out on the reporter. He looked at his left hand to stop the fingers from trembling. Shit, what was wrong with him? Mikasa noticed it too and looked at him strange. He knew that look. It’s the look he got when people came to know about his deadbeat father who’d disappeared years ago. The same look he got when people discovered about his… mum. How she was confined to a psychiatric ward, forsaken by her only son. He could read the same expression on Mikasa right now.

Pity.

Doubt.

That's what their faces showed.

Eren flinched, looking away from her. He stared long and hard at the laces of his boots.

 

 _'Just a fucking Earthborn_.'

 

 _No, stop that_. _,_ he urged himself, gritting his teeth. It was a mistake. He could sort this out. There was no need to jump to conclusions.

Mikasa didn’t relinquish her hold on his sleeve. Looking at him with concern, she gave his left arm a supportive squeeze and tried to engage him. 'Eren, please listen to me,’ the reporter said kindly. ‘There are other means to get your file. It's not the end, you hear? You wanted to check the third floor of the archives, right?'

He looked up at her half dazed before managing a nod.

'Y-yeah. The third floor.'

The reporter retrieved the pager-looking thing from her belt, and Eren realised it was a communicator.

'Gale, connect me to Ymir,' Mikasa said in a whisper.

The God of the Titan Network clicked twice, accepting her request and established a brittle connection to her quarry. Three rings, and a surly voice erupted on the other end. As if they they’d been unjustly woken from an afternoon siesta.

'Well, well, well,’ drawled the speaker. ‘Look who decided to call me on this fine evening. If it isn't Trost's Poster Girl –—' there was a yawn. '—Mikasa Ackerman.'

Mikasa cut Eren an apologetic glance and exhaled wearily into her comm.

'Ymir, hey,' she said hesitantly, speaking in hushed tones. Her eyes darted down the corridor, and she found a guard approaching. She smiled at the man, a smile that was casual and friendly, hoping to not rouse his suspicions. The guard greeted her with a genial nod and crossed them, no questions from his end.

Mikasa returned to her link.   

'You there, Ymir? Hey, I need a favour,' she spoke into the comm.

'You'll owe me big time, love. I don't do charity if you haven't noticed.'

'Yeah, yeah, you don't do charity unless Historia Reiss is involved. I'm aware.'

There was a bark of laughter on the other end.

'Touché. Still, what will be my payment?'

Mikasa passed a glance at Eren. The young man looked perturbed; he was slumped against the wall, shoulders withdrawn, and seemed to be fighting an inner conflict of his own. What was he thinking? What was he going through? And since when did she get so attached to him that she was ready to sign a deal with the devil? Mikasa didn’t understand it herself.

'Whatever you want, Ymir. Whatever the hell you want,' Mikasa conceded.

Ymir hummed as if considering the offer. 'I'm not sure you can afford my prices. But I'll put it on your tab. So, what do you want me to steal this time?'

'Keys to the Third Floor. Titan Repository. You can manage it?'

'Keh. Piece of cake.’

Mikasa was relieved.

‘Great. How soon can you get here?’

‘I’m near, don’t worry.’

 

 

 

Mikasa volunteered to do guard duty and stood outside the vaulted storeroom on the third floor, while Ymir and Eren went to work inside, exploring the cabinets. Ymir was a tall woman, dusky brown with freckles dotting her nose. She would have been one of those ethnic beauties of Titan if she hadn't been accompanied by that domineering, lazy personality of hers. Ymir smoked a cigarette, more like chewed on it, turning a blind eye to the 'No Smoking. Highly Inflammable' sign that hung above her head. Her whole role in the operation was just to aid with the breaking in, nothing more, she said. _Nothing more_ , she emphasized while having the audacity to do some exploring of her own. The goddam hypocrite.

'So, what's your story?' Ymir asked Eren as he shuffled through the contents of the filing cabinet 'J'.

Annie must have combed through his file right here. Funny, how everyone seemed to have the dirt on him.

Everyone except Eren, that is.

Eren's hands stilled, and he cast her a tentative glance. The peacekeeper watched Ymir take a long draw from her cigarette, blowing the smoke out in three puffy rings. She waited for his answer, staring curiously at him and his parka.

Eren forced a small smile.

'My story?' he repeated.

Ymir nodded.

 'Yeah, everyone’s got one. So, what's yours?'

Eren's green eyes set themselves on the task at hand.

'I guess that's what I am trying to find out.'

His explanation was cryptic, he knew. Ymir lifted an eyebrow but said nothing more.

'Good luck,' she mumbled, sounding bored with him already. Ymir didn't pursue the subject, and Eren was grateful for it.

If only he could stop the dread from creeping in. He ran through the names in the cabinet.

Joplin, Carl.

Jenna, Frey.

Javis, Merlin.

Javis, Amelie.

Jacovich, Miller.

Jaeger, Eren.

Gotcha.

Here it was.

Eren grabbed the miniature disc with his name, stuffed it into his rear pocket and helped Ymir set the cabinets back into order. They were preparing to clamber out of the vault when they heard it. A siren wailed, piercing the silence of the vaulted room.

The strangers exchanged wary glances, Ymir’s eyes went wide, allowing a dent in her cool and calm composure.

'Go,' urged Ymir, showing the first signs of panic. 'I'll take care of things here,' she said, dropping her cigarette and putting out the embers under her sole.

Eren watched her grimly.

'But… what about you?'

'Don't worry about _me_ , you fuckin' male chauvinist. Leave. Now!'

Eren nodded nervously, bowed in gratitude to the dusky woman and darted out of the room. He emerged into the red blazing light of the corridor alarms, rendered almost deaf by the sirens.

Mikasa was waiting for him at the exit.

'You got it?' she hissed.

Eren nodded.

Mikasa smiled in relief. She tugged off her scarf and draped it over her mouth, covering her face.

'Good. I have the TJ on standby,’ she told him in a muffled voice. ‘But we've got to hurry. Lockdown starts in five minutes; this place will be swarming with guards any time soon.’ She gestured to Eren, pointing out his jacket. ‘Cover your face.'

Eren pulled the hood over his head and kept his head low, avoiding the surveillance cameras. Bursting through the exit, he wanted to ask her what would happen if they got bolted in.

But he decided to leave that answer to his imagination.

 

 

* * *

 


	24. Eren Jaeger

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

PERSONNEL FILE, TITAN

MILITARY POLICE DIVISION, TROST

* * *

 

keywords: jaeger, order of grey baron, universal gate key, emissary, peacecorp, personnel file, classified, withheld 

classification: CONFIDENTIAL, GRAVITAS

 

 

FOR INTER-DEPARTMENT USE

 

NAME: JAEGER, EREN

ADDRESS: TRANSIENT; TITAN RESIDENCE NOTABLY #1263, HELUM TOWER, BRIANNE DISTRICT

BORN: 3/30/90 EY

AGE: 23

MOTHER'S NAME: JAEGER, CARLA (48, EARTHBORN, INSTITUTIONALIZED AT STANLEY MEMORIAL HSPTL.)

FATHER'S NAME: JAEGER, GRISHA (52, TITAN, MISSING)

THUMBPRINT: RECORDED (L&R)

RETINOGRAPH: RECORDED (L&R)

DNA: STRANDS KEPT IN COLD STORAGE; SEQUENCING COMPLETE

OCCUPATION

 ON TITAN: PEACECORP CADET 104TH SQUADRON, TRAINED BY KEITH SHADIS, POSTED UNDER LC. RIVAILLE LEVI

 ON EARTH: PURSUING  FINAL YEAR, MECHANICS AT UNIVERSITY OF TECHNOLOGY, SYLVAN

 

 

EARLY HISTORY: A SUMMARY

EREN JAEGER, was born to Carla Jaeger in 1990 (all measurements to be given in the Earthen Equivalent henceforth). His father is known to be Grisha Jaeger, Research Scientist (Order of Grey Baron, emeritus) who is suspected of treason for devising the UNIVERSAL GATE KEY (violating penal codes VI, VII and Section 823 of Titan Penal Law) and subsequently, went into hiding on Earth. The exact details of Grisha's experiment and relationship with Carla could not be verified. But DNA records confirm that Grisha is the biological father of Eren and who went missing in EY 2000, when the boy turned ten. No trace of the research scientist was found thereafter; scarcely any material left behind in relation to his research on Earth. All materials and notes were found to be effectively destroyed (as confirmed by investigator D.E. Lawrence who ventured into Jaeger home on the pretense of being part of the domestic revenue agency IRS). Eren has no memories of his father, except for the universal gate key left as a memento in his possession. The last active presence of Grisha was observed by Gale to be Stonehess district before blinking out from the servers for an entire decade. All medical records on the Network pertaining to the man were found to have been erased or withdrawn. It is the State's belief that Grisha is still alive, working incognito on Titan grounds and continues to conduct illegal research on the interstellar gateways. The Titan Government has classified him as an 'A - LIST FUGITIVE', 'DANGEROUS', 'WANTED' and it is the State's conviction that the man would try to establish contact with his only son, hence requiring the constant surveillance of his ward.

 

TIMELINE OF EVENTS REG SUBJECT:

Year 1990: Born to Carla nee Karula Jaeger

Year 2000: Participated in try outs for ice hockey team. Does not take well to loss. Found to have a love for the outdoors.

Year 2001: Disappearance of Grisha Jaeger. It is clear from the memory file that Eren's resentment for his father began at this time.

Year 2002: 12 years old. Admitted into care after viciously attacking two older boys from school. Reason cited to be bullying of childhood friend Armin Arlert. Showed tenacity in spirit and an inborn instinct to protect the weak.

Year 2003: School records confirm Eren did average at schoolwork though excellence noted in Physics, Gymnastics and Amateur Boxing while struggling in mathematics. Capable of forming friendships with classmates and struck some instructors in school as an easy going but enthusiastic child. Although, withdrawn in his own world. Eren's hobbies include Comics, Television and Brawling.

Year 2005: Activated Interstellar Gateway in home basement by accident. First notable breach into Titan Territory through Lieutenant Rivaille Levi's residence. Reprimanded and transferred back to Earth. Exact nature of events undisclosed and considered irrelevant by Lieutenant. Illegal Gateway closed upon notification by orders of the State. Eren Jaeger made a second breach in the later part of the year. This time, the fifteen-year-old was arrested, brought to trial before the court of Supreme Commander Darius Zachlay. Possession of Universal Gate Key perceived as a pervasive threat to homeland security. PeaceCorp commander Erwin Smith intervened on subject's behalf and made the proposition of accepting Eren into his squad under the direct leadership of Rivaille Levi. Eren's estranged relationship with his father, Lt. Levi's promise of administering discipline and Eren's prevalent knowledge of the Titan world considered as a key factor in the ruling of the final verdict. The Grand Magistrate Darius Zachlay issued his verdict in the favor of the PeaceCorps. Eren Jaeger, officially inducted into PeaceCorps.

Year 2006: Eren observed to excel under Keith Shadis, trainer of 104th squadron. Agile, keen acumen, well versed with gear maneuvering. Though lagging in his study of Titan History and Political Affairs. His peers from 104 include: Marco Bott, Thomas Wagner, Frank Burr and Annie Leonhart.

Year 2007: Mother Carla Jaeger hospitalised from a nervous breakdown, thought to be suffering from schizophrenia, no cure available on Earth as per their current medical treatise. Close Acquaintances at this juncture: Petra Ral, Oluo Bozado, Hanji Zoe and Moblit. Eren officially posted under LC. Rivaille Levi. The Corporal agreed to conditional surveillance of subject. Eren Jaeger observed to regard his guardian Rivaille Levi with esteem and reverence. 

Year 2008: First traits of homosexuality recorded in the subject—

 

* * *

 

 

 

There was more to it, but Eren stopped reading at this point. He brought a hand up quickly and switched off the display. The young man took a deep breath in, ignoring the shaking in his fingers and the hollow in his chest. He mumbled an expletive, reached for the slot and ejected the disc out of the player. He tucked the disc into the pocket of his parka, stowing it away quietly where it lay heavier than anything Eren had ever owned before. The projector screen was blank, and Eren could see his own reflection now. Mikasa's aircraft rumbled in the silence of the night, and Eren leaned against the window, watching the city of Trost sleep underneath them.

But he wouldn't sleep tonight.

He knew.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For how Eren Jaeger's case file came about, please read: 'Twelve Doors to a Blue Green World'.
> 
>  
> 
>  


	25. Paradise Lost

 

 

 

Chapter-25- Paradise Lost

~.~

 

 

Levi reclined against the steel railing, watching his mirror image flicker in the elevator's closed doors. He stared long and hard at the reflection and debated over a stain on his dark blazer.

Didn't notice that one before, he realised and searched his pockets for a handkerchief.

There were two messages for the Corporal on Gale's network. He listened to them as he took the elevator up to the apartment in Helios Tower. The first one was from Hanji demanding his current whereabouts. In the whole time he'd known Hanji Zoe, this was one of the few redeeming qualities that set her apart. Hanji never tried to beat about the bush. She was always in his face, telling him things that no one else would risk to. Like what an atrocious bastard he was. Like the times he stretched his liberties with the law. Today, there was a quiet urgency in her tone. ( _I mean it, Levi,_ she said. _Erwin is not impressed with you right now. And it's not like you to skip squad meetings on purpose. Is everything alright with you? And Eren...? How is my favorite Earthborn doing?)_ The second message was surprisingly from the spouse of his squad member. Gunther's wife dropped him a heartfelt note of thanks for helping with the claims settlement. Gunther's mounting medical bills had exhausted the family's funds, but Levi managed to pull some bureaucratic ropes to get the family some financial aid sanctioned. And by bureaucratic ropes, he meant storming into Military Police's headquarters, drawing out the lovely clerks and interns of the insurance department and scaring the shit out of 'the little pigs'.

And then there was Church, the hyperbolic ghost from his past.

'You've become tame, Rivaille,' Farlan Church had told him.

The blond took a sip of his scotch and looked at Levi's face as if tracing the outline of the man's porcelain features. 'You've become a collared dog of the State. Bark for me, Levi. Say Woof, Woof,' the man taunted, breaking into a condescending laugh. Farlan’s fingers grazed over Levi's knuckles, prodding them.

He was drunk, Levi noticed.

Drunk on liquor, madness and ideals like Levi had once been.

'Go home, Farlan. If you get caught again, I won't be able to help you this time.'

Farlan snorted and rolled his eyes.

'Help? But you're not the man I knew you to be. The Rivaille Levi I knew would never whore himself out to the government. Where is The Hanging Man? The Vigilante?' he slurred.

Levi let slip a bitter smile, holding his own glass by the rim. 'Dead, he's dead. I don't go by those names anymore. And you know why. Nor do those names mean anything to me. You're still living in the past, Church.'

'The past?' Farlan echoed, shaking his head. He noticed the barkeep giving them a square look and he huddled deeper into the velvet booth to avoid being espied. The ghost fidgeted with a coaster, tossing it back and forth between his fingers. 'I wonder how you could forget the glory of those days, my old friend. You need reminding, Levi. The brat has softened you,' said Farlan, getting up from his seat and sliding out of the booth. He dropped a crumbled old bill on the table and with a mock salute to Levi, left the pub Diablo.

When the ghost had long walked past the door, Levi picked up the bill, tracing the words written over the emblem of Titan's Treasury.

Levi did not have the time to mull over Church's cryptic message. The elevator lurched to a stop on the twelfth floor. He arrived at their apartment and before he could even ring the bell, he noticed the jarring signs.

The door was pulled ajar and left open carelessly. _Eren, you dimwit_ , he cursed under his breath. He had barely made it through the door when his hands stilled over the knob. Something was not right about the apartment. There were no signs of a forced break in, no apparent trigger of an alarm, and Levi's hand automatically reached for the Ruger in his holster and he dragged it out from under his blazer. Levi's suede slipped in through the crack and he took a moment to adjust to the darkness. The apartment was wreathed in shadows, the only sound being the scraping noise coming from the broom closet.

'Eren?' he called into the darkness. 

There was no answer, but the shuffling grew louder and fiercer.

Levi felt a wave of dread seep into him. Not unlike the night Eren had made his distress call from Gateway 22. Don't let this be like last time, he found himself wishing. Not here, right under my watch. Levi slipped off his blazer and dropped it in the thin walkway from the front door. Cautious, he trudged his way to the broom closet and unlatched it. A small figure tumbled out and snorted in impatience. Levi knelt beside the droid dog. Krobe's red orbs glittered in the dark, and it barked at him as if relieved to see him.

'Sshh, yes, I'm here now. Where is Eren?' asked Levi.

Krobe gave a violent shudder.

And then, the silly dog began to run in circles, chasing its own tail. With its jaw open and metallic tongue hanging out of its mouth limply, the droid looked petrified and confused like a circus animal that had forgotten a key turn in its performance.

Levi made a small sound of annoyance and caught the droid by its neck.

'I thought I told you to watch over him, craphead. Not get yourself locked up in a cupboard. You're worse than him.'

Krobe whined in apology and settled down at his feet, tucking its black head under its paws.

Levi turned to the ceiling and muttered 'ON'. But the lamps of the false ceiling refused to light up.

A short circuit?

A fuse?

He looked towards the sitting room, took a hesitant step forward and felt something crack under his feet.

It was a lot of something's.

Levi turned to the floor and caught the glimmer off it. Glass littered the entire stretch of the carpeted floor; hundreds and thousands of shards and Levi traced the wreckage to the gaping hole in the telescreen. A dented baseball bat, one of Eren's Earthen junk, lay unclaimed at its bottom. Someone had smashed the screen right through the middle.

Levi stood in the middle of the carnage and watched the sizzle of sparks erupt from the annihilated screen.

There seemed no traces of blood around, but Levi couldn't be too sure in the darkness. He felt a familiar panic course through his veins. His hold on the Ruger tightened, and turning swift, he headed into the bedroom. The ghastly shadows plagued the bed as well, and he did not try to switch on the lights here. Because there was a slow, rhythmic noise coming from somewhere. A running faucet. Levi heard water trickling from the bath. He crept towards the closed bathroom and looked down. Light flooded from the crevice underneath the door. Someone was inside.

He passed a hand over the metal surface, and it slid open in recognition.

Levi held up the gun over the arch of his left elbow.

The shower curtains were pulled in, and Levi heard the faucet still running. The tub was full to the brim and was spilling over its rim, water pooling on the tiles. The translucent fabric of the crepe drapes showed the silhouette of someone sitting in the tub. Feeling his pulse throb against the skin of his throat, Levi held the gun steady. He took three strides forward and pulled the curtains away.

Relief flooded him immediately.

Levi muttered a curse and lowered the nozzle of the gun.

Eren was sitting in the bathtub, half naked and with the shower running over him. Drenched to the skin, his tanned flesh glistened against the hues of yellow light. The young keeper opened his eyes and favoured the Lance Corporal with a small smile.

'You alright?' Levi asked, lowering himself and tossing the weapon aside. He stooped down, clasped the sides of the brunet's head and tilted the face to his. Levi checked the pupils of Eren's remarkable eyes.

There was no dilation. No signs of a concussion either. Eren's blue green eyes stared back at him unblinkingly.

And before he knew it, Eren's left arm broke the surface of water and grabbed him by the cravat. Eren hissed, bringing Levi down to his knees by the sheer force of his pull. His joints met the hard surface of the floor and Levi winced inwardly from the pain.

The smile never left the younger's face throughout.

'Welcome home,' Eren said to him, his eyes like half lidded pools of green fury. 'Did you like the mess in the living room? I made it especially for you... _Corporal sir_ ,' the young man said, lips curling into a snarl and his bruised fingers dug into Levi's cravat. His other arm hung bandaged, and Levi grimaced, thankful for the handicap for the first time.

There was that beastly anger again. Levi would have given a sordid laugh at this feeling of déjà vu. He remembered a teenager holding up a razor blade eight years ago. Levi remembered the kid threatening to dismember him with it. Some things never changed.

Grey eyes turned from the fingers grasping under his chin to the fury before him. A shadow of confusion passed over Levi. The shorter man tried to wrench himself free, but Eren held on, the grip of the boy’s fingers painfully tight.

Apparently, Levi wasn't the only one having a bout of nostalgia.

'Does this bring back memories of the first time we met?' Eren asked him with a chuckle. 'Does it?' he prompted, his implication clear.

'Eren, unhand me.'

'No...’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Not this time. I'm surprised that you didn't give them a blow by blow account. What stopped you? A moral conscience, _sir_?’

There was a momentary pause on Levi's part. For the tenth of a second, his mask cracked and let through an expression of regret. Levi's hand wrapped around Eren's wet, clammy fingers, wrinkled from his overstay in the tub. The man's own pants were getting drenched from the puddle of water leaking from the sides of the bathtub. But he didn't look away, unapologetic as he was in his stare.

So, it had finally come to this.

'You broke my orders,' Levi trailed, realization dawning on him. 'How much do you know?'

'Everything,' Eren answered, and Levi felt the youngster's fingers tremble under his chin. 'It was a helluva trip down memory lane. All thanks to you,' he said, nostrils flaring. Eren's shoulders convulsed. Now that Levi looked at the younger, he found Eren shirtless and shivering against the insipid cold of the water. How long had the boy been waiting for him to show up? Levi watched the boy pause and take a deep breath in. The feral anger was still there and so were all the vulnerabilities that came with it. The faucet sprayed over them, and Levi felt strands of his own hair becoming slick against his undercut. 

Eren opened his mouth but whatever caustic remark he intended to say, never came.

Levi used the opportunity to wrench away Eren's hand, freeing himself. He stood up abruptly, looking at his soiled clothes in disdain. The clothes didn't really matter, not when he was grappling for straws to keep himself from drowning.

'Everything, huh?' he whispered. 'I'm surprised you're still here,' Levi said to the boy, his gaze fixed on the mirror. He avoided the younger's gaze, knowing it would burn a hole in him and chose to look at his reflection instead. 

The silence was heavy.

Until Eren let slip a bitter laugh. As if condemned by his own feelings.

'I guess I wanted to hear it from you. I wanted to give you... maybe, even give _us_ a second chance,’ the boy's voice mellowed, teetering so close to desperation. Eren looked up at him earnestly. ‘Levi, please tell me. Please tell me _this_ wasn't a lie. I need to hear it from you,’ his voice broke. ‘ _Please_ ,’ he urged softly.

Levi turned his back to Eren and walked to the door.

He paused, mulling over his answer. 

'I'm sorry, Eren,' he finally said. 'But you have always been an asset and a liability to the State. It's the same with me. And for the record... there was no _us_ in the first place.'

 

_Nine times the space that measures day and night._

 

That was how long they fell.

Levi had heard the footsteps first, sloppy and wet against the padded floor of the bedroom. Before he could turn around, a force tackled him from behind, sending them both hurtling into the living room. They landed close to the decimated telescreen in a huddle of limbs. There was a halfhearted kick that knocked over the coffee table. A lampshade went crashing down to pieces as their bodies rolled on the floor, scraping against the extremities of the furniture and trying to wrestle control. Levi bit on his lip, drawing blood. He fought the instinct to retaliate, succumbed to the need to play his part and allowed himself to be rolled on his back. Eren's unsteady fingers, fingers of his good hand, grappled for his shirt. Wet slacks straddled his waist, and Levi finally met raging green eyes dilated beyond the limits of fury. Eren was breathing hard, struggling to cope with what he had just said.

 

_'This brat will follow you to the ends of the universe, Corporal. Remember it. Consider it even a warning.'_

 

Eren raised his left fist and held it over Levi, staring down at him.

His voice was almost guttural in anguish.

'Take that _back_. I swear to God, take that back, you asshole,' the younger spat at him.

And in that moment, eerily enough, all Levi could think about was the book.

 

 

_My sentence is for open war. Of wiles,_

_More unexpert, I boast not: then let those_

_Contrive who need, or when they need; not now._

Levi made his resolve. He looked up and met Eren’s stare evenly, cold and callous when he wanted it to be.

He smirked.

'Hit me then, you one armed freak. Let me see you try,’ he taunted.

Those words hurt enough; Eren choked on a sob, shoulders quivering. The corners of his eyes welled up, lips trembled as they fell open, and the younger man gave a strangled yell that reverberated through the hollow apartment of 1263. It was the cry of a fallen beast. It was the cry of a cornered prey.

'Fuck you! Does this get you off? Did selling me out to the State get you off? DOES BREAKING MY _HEART_ GET YOU OFF? You sick _fuck_!'

Eren’s fist came crashing down, but Levi pulled away in the nick of time. He slithered to the right, missing it by inches.

He panted from the thrill of it and looked up to taunt the younger about his aim. But the words never came.

Because all Levi saw were tears instead, distilled tears streaming down relentlessly.

And it occurred to Levi that Eren looked hauntingly beautiful when he cried.

The young keeper was looking at him disparagingly through the mess of tears and wet hair. His shoulders shuddered from the onslaught of emotion.

'You were a hero! You were a goddam hero to me! Did you know that?'

The words rendered him silent. Levi watched the boy pensively and forced a scoff.

'There are no heroes in Titan, Eren. I've told you before.'

Eren's fingers dug into the soft flesh of his ribs, almost clawing to make impressions.

'I loved you. I loved you so goddam much, it hurts. I fucking married you. I carried the weight of worlds so I could stay by your side. And you turn around and stab me in the back. You're worse than Annie. You're worse than everybody. Goddam fuckin' Brutus, that's what you are.'

Ah, there was that spirit breaking again.

He didn't know why he did it. Against his will, Levi reached out with a hand to touch his cheek.

Eren coiled away from the outstretched hand.

'Don't. Please _don't_... You had me on surveillance, and I didn’t know it. How have you been tracking me? Where is the tracer, Levi? WHERE? You found me on Gateway 22 though I never told you where I was!’

Levi stayed silent.

‘Where?’ the keeper demanded.

Levi’s gaze flickered from the ceiling to the tearful face before him.

'Your ring, Eren. It was in your wedding ring,' Levi answered, breaking into a sordid smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He cocked up an eyebrow. 'You mad? You must be mad. C'mon, tell me you hate me,' the older urged. 'Tell me how much you _really_ hate me, Eren.'

Eren flinched, opened his mouth but wouldn't say it.

Levi chuckled; he wasn’t really surprised.

'You can't, can you? Always wearing your heart on your sleeve. You can't survive here if you can't even lie, trooper.'

'Shut up,’ the boy snapped, pinning him down with the little energy the boy had left. ‘Shut the fuck up. At least I’ve got a heart. Not like you!'

Levi looked at him, narrowing his gaze.

'You’re deluding yourself. You didn't carry the weight of worlds for me, Eren. Admit it. You were just running away. Running away from the fact that you can't help your mother. Running away from regret and desolation. Go home, Earthborn... You don't belong here.'

There was a creak of the door, and they heard a figure stagger into the dim lit aisle. The two men stared at the feet that paddled into the living room. Mrs Izzy Norman held up a torchlight, her wrinkled face scrunched up in ill favor.

'I know you two are into rough shenanigans, but could you please keep the noise down. There are people trying to sleep— oh, oh DEAR!' her voice faltered, her old eyes widening at the mess in the living room. She turned from the ruins to the two men entangled on the floor. 'I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?'

'No, ma'am. You didn't,' Eren replied, wiping his face with the back of his sweaty palm. The keeper heaved himself off the older man and rose to his feet. He staggered past Mrs. Norman without a word.

He paused only once on the way out.

Levi watched him kneel next to Krobe and give the droid a lingering pat on its head.

'Take care,' the young man said before turning and disappearing out the door.

 

 

* * *

 


	26. Polaroid Judgement

 

Chapter-26- Polaroid Judgment

~.~

 

 

Catharsis.

That was the name for it. Tears had run dry, and a vacuum left in their wake. An outburst of emotion such as that was supposed to pave way for the calm; it should have alleviated him, made him feel relieved. No such thing. Eren felt drained as he sat on a bench on a nameless street of an alien world. Or perhaps, _he_ was the alien in this cold, duplicitous world of the Titans— a fact that became well-ingrained with each passing moment.

Eren felt drained and alone. And he finally understood what Annie Leonhart had meant.

Titans didn't trust anyone. Heck, they didn't even trust themselves.

In the one hour the brunet had spent on that bench, he'd been approached by three tramps demanding money, two prostitutes offering their lascivious bodies in return for some dough or food, and five times he’d got mistaken for a hobo cum hooker himself. He turned down all of them despite the cat calls, the lingering touches on his shoulder and one woman's offer to throw in a free massage. All of them had barcodes on their wrists, proof of having spent time in prison. He didn't really blame these Titans. If Eren had encountered a shirtless guy sitting on a bench without his shoes on… hell, he'd have judged too.

To add to his suffering, the universe sent down the rain.

'Great, thanks a lot, cosmos,' Eren told the angry, purple clouds above him. 'Rub it in, will you? Kick the dog when it's down.'

The clouds rumbled in the skyline of Trost, and Eren shrunk into a ball, pulling up his knees. The rain came pilfering down, scraping through dust and paints, pitter-pattering across the pavement, across his bench, across the deserted roads and the billboards that hung in the spaces between skyscrapers. Neon lights flickered, and there was a lull in the sound of aircrafts buzzing in the sky. Something seared on his skin. And Eren realized his whole body was hurting, every bit of his skin exposed to the acerbic rain.

Of course, he’d been yearning for it. This was the real catharsis that he had needed. He watched as the water flowed down every pore of his flesh, tracing lines and rivers. Yeah, burn away. Burn away to hell. Anything to forget the hollowness in his chest. But then, instead of purging him… it brought back old memories. Because this unkind rain was brutally familiar to the way someone's fingers and mouth had caressed his skin in the past. How they’d roved and sought every inch of him, eliciting feelings that had been largely unknown to him. These lines and rivers were old haunts, the trails of someone else, and the rain could not erase that, try as it might. How does one go back and undo so many years of affection? Eren wished he had an answer. Because forgetting the bastard was the only way to get over this numbness.

Easier said than done.

A shadow appeared in the horizon. A friendly shadow.

Eren looked up to find himself sheltered under a red umbrella. As red as the scarf of the woman holding it. The reporter’s penchant for the colour was frankly amusing.

'Hey,' said Mikasa, looking over him grimly. There was a mist about her, a foggy kindness that reminded him of his mother again. This time she had opted to wear a raincoat instead of her bomber jacket.

Eren greeted her back with feigned enthusiasm. 'How is that mafia story coming along?' he asked her, mustering a smile from somewhere.

She didn’t answer. The reporter said nothing for a long while and gazed at him.

'I wouldn't sit here if I were you, John Doe,’ she finally said. ‘97% of Titan's rains are acidic, pH of 5. Didn't they teach you anything in your military training?'

Eren ran over this piece of information in his head.

'I've… never really been good at paying attention,' he admitted with a wry smile.

He watched Mikasa out of the corner of his eyes as she rummaged through her bag and drew out a small towel. She held it out for him.

'Here,’ she gestured. ‘Take it. You'll catch a cold.'

Eren stared at the fabric in her hand and quirked up a brow.

'Odd,’ he said to her, ‘It's strange how you always find me when I need help. You don’t have a tracer on me, I hope.'

At her rather puzzled expression, he gave her an apologetic smile. Eren dropped his suspicions and accepted the offering. 'Sorry about that… I'm sure you don't,’ he said, taking the towel from her. ‘Don’t mind me. I am just being paranoid… What are you doing here anyway?' he asked her, running the towel over his hair.

Mikasa responded by pointing to the end of the road, where her vehicle stood parked in the rain.

'Was visiting a fallout shelter nearby and overheard two hookers talking about a man. It fit your description,' Mikasa smirked as she gave him the once over. 'Nice look you've got going there. Is it the new spring collection? The radical new 'I'm a SexyCorp' style from Earth?'

Mikasa was not known for her humour. But she did manage to weasel a small laugh out of Eren.

Yet, somewhere along the way, the laugh died a quick death, and Eren settled into that wistful silence of his. He went back to watching the road, green eyes fixated on some spot.

Mikasa kept the umbrella steady over them.

'Look here. I don't know what's happening but… but if you need a place to stay, I have got a spare room.'

Eren ruminated in the silence, his jaw set.

'Thanks for the offer, Mikasa. But can you just give me one last ride?'

'Sure. Where to?'

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rico Brzenska led him to the commander's office, disapproval evident on her face. The woman with the blond bob cut and round pince nez had never liked him from the beginning. She hated his race and made no effort to hide it.

'Commander,' she called into her commlink. 'Jaeger is here to see you.'

The answer came swift.

'Let him through.’

Rico opened the door and held it out for Eren.

'Gentlemen first,' she said with a sickly-sweet smile.

‘Uh, thanks,' Eren acknowledged and bristled past her, stepping into a dark oval room. Commander Dot Pixis sat hunched in his plush leather chair, looking at the dozen screens mounted on the wall. His bald head was perched on the tip of his steepled fingers, and his attention lingered on the screens in amusement. Each captured a different scene, one was news coverage on a riot in Monroe; another screen was delivering breaking news of a drug mafia shoot-out; then, there was the local weather report on the acid rain, and even a soap opera thrown right in the middle. Eren had a deep, lingering suspicion that the commander was more interested in 'Desperate Husbands' than the story on Maria's food drought.

Rico cleared her throat.

'We received reports from Intelligence, Commander. There was a break in at the Trost Repository, sir.'

Pixis was not alarmed by this report.

'And who in their right mind would want to break in there for?' the man asked, swirling in his seat to face them. His eyes locked with Eren's and under the bald man's scrutiny, Eren visibly gulped.

'Hello, Jaeger. Long time, no see. You look under the weather, lad.'

Eren looked down at the scruffy maroon shirt that Mikasa had lent him earlier. Under the weather… Yeah, he bet. He felt like a wet dog mauled over by a truck. And with the way Rico was glaring at him, he probably looked it too.

Rico passed the commander a document that Eren filled out a little while earlier.

The commanding officer read it in silence.

'You want to resign?' asked Dot Pixis, faintly vexed. There was a furrow in his brow. 'Are you serious?'

Eren stood in rapt attention and nodded.

'Y-Yes, sir'.

He could not salute, and Dot Pixis did not seem to mind the small lapse in protocol.

'Hurmm,' trailed the commander, eyes shifting from the resignation letter in his hand to Eren's face. Breaking into a wide smile, Dot Pixis reached over his desk and fed the letter to the waiting mouth of a shredder. The machine chewed it out like a hungry little beast, depositing the shreds at the bottom.

Eren remained silent.

Pixis returned a cool, menacing smile.

'Son, do you think we’re a drive through? You think you can walk in and walk out of the Titan Army as you please?'

There was a strained silence. When Pixis made a little wave with his hand, Rico understood the hint and excused herself from their company. Eren saw her leave and heard the doors to the commander's oval office slam shut.

'I asked you a question, soldier,' prompted Pixis, his expression turning grave.

The brunet swallowed the knot in his throat and shook his head.

'I'm sorry, sir. Please forgive my insubordination, but if I can’t resign, I’d like to request voluntary discharge.'

'And the reason?'

Eren blinked, turning to the large chandelier that hung under the ceiling. A reason. He had spent the entire night thinking of a professional one but then, just as a certain someone had said to him, Eren Jaeger wasn't really any good at lying.

'Personal, sir.'

It was the utter wrong thing to say. Eren wondered what the commander was thinking. With the way the State watched his every move, Dot Pixis probably knew all. Down to the effing last detail.

He was right on his mark for Pixis chuckled.

'There is nothing personal when you serve us. Surely, you understand by now.'

Of course, there was the gambit, laid out all in the open. The fingers of his left hand clenched into a fist.

Yeah, he understood. Perfectly.

Pixis gave a sigh.

'Your request is declined, cadet.'

A deafening quiet filled the oval office. Eren remained standing, arms pressed to his sides. Deeming the conversation to be over, Dot Pixis returned to watching the telescreens, his interest in ‘Desperate Husbands’ waning.

'If I can't be discharged, sir,' Eren's voice finally cut into the silence. 'I'd like to take up permanent posting on the other side.'

'Permanent?' Pixis echoed with a chilling smile. He swivelled in his chair to glance at the young keeper again. 'You must be _really_ desperate to leave.'

Eren squeezed his eyes shut and gave a faint nod.

'Hurrm… A permanent transfer, eh? Indeed, your position is highly compromised. Without the universal gate key, you're useless to the State, do you get me?'

Eren stared at the floor below his feet.

'…yes, sir. I’m aware.'

'And after the Leonhart fiasco,' the bald man let out an audible groan, picking up a paper weight from his table. A paper weight that shimmered a prism of colours as he touched it. '—The Titan government isn't too keen on outsiders either. I could easily grant this request of yours. Hell, I could get the engineers to escort you to the nearest gateway right now and toss your ass across the galaxy. But is that what you really want, Jaeger? Have you thought this through, young man? Do you realize that without a key, you won't be able to come back?' he paused and reduced his entire tirade to a single word. ‘Ever?’

There was a long, hard silence. Eren ruminated over the words in his head.

Never come back.

Of course, he’d thought this through. He’d spent the entire night thinking it through. And to be honest, he was tired of thinking.

He would never be able to return.

Not unless the State granted him entry.

There would be no more of sharing scandalous gossip with Petra, no more of playing checkers with Oluo, he'd never have to be teased by Hanji either. He would miss Marco and the boy’s relentless questions about Earth. He wouldn't be able to crack one of those inane toilet jokes with Erd, Gunther and the others. He would never be able to see that dopey mutt Krobe again.

 

_Come on, Eren. Tell me how much you really hate me._

 

Or wake up in the shell of someone's arms. Or be kissed like tomorrow didn't exist. The number 1263 would mean nothing to him. Was he willing to leave all that behind?

 

_There was no **us** in the first place._

 

A part of him wondered if he was being bull-headed and reckless again. But the other part egged him on fervently— to sever the ties, to break away. Fuck thinking. Eren Jaeger had never been good at it anyway.

The voice in his head made it easy. It drove the knife through the wedge.

 

_Go home, Earthborn… You don't belong here._

 

'Yes, sir. I'd like to go home please,' he decided.

 

 

 

 

The blinds were pulled down against the dwarf sun of Titan. The droid dog was sleeping under the dining table, having gnawed on a generous serving of nuts and bolts. It gave a low whine of content, rolling on its back and dreaming about whatever the hell robots dreamed about. The telescreen smoked like shish kebab from one of Maria's bazaars. The floor was littered with glass shards, the coffee table knocked over, and Hanji Zoe let out a low whistle as she surveyed the rest of the damage. It was as if a tornado had ravaged the place.

The tornado had a name, she suspected. Eren Jaeger.

She stood in the middle of the living room, with her hands buried in the vest pockets of her uniform coat.

Her bespectacled eyes turned to the figure sitting on the floor, slurping his way through the dragon chicken noodles she had brought over.

'Whoa. I'm not sure what surprises me more. The fact that you're still sitting in this mess? Or the fact that you're eating my cooking? Aren't you worried I poisoned it?'

Levi shrugged, grey eyes fixed on some decrepit spot on the floor.

'I'll take my chances,' he said with a degree of candour not unusual for him.

Hanji looked at him gravely before sighing. She picked up the baseball bat from the floor and examined it with pure academic interest. It was dented in the middle and banged up to a bad shape.

'What's this used for?' she asked curiously.

'Junk. Need to throw it out,' Levi answered without even a glance.

Hanji turned to the Corporal and raised one eyebrow.

'He left, you know. The squad tried convincing him against it. Petra was furious; Oluo threatened he'd never gamble again. But he left.'

Levi said nothing.

Hanji bit into the side of her cheek, perturbed by his silence.

'I don't know what happened between you two,' she told him. 'But you probably overdid it.'

'Not like I care,' Levi answered.

'You don't care?' Hanji repeated, bending to pick up a framed photograph from the floor. She looked at the smiling brunet in the picture, one arm slung over that morose comrade of hers. Boyish eyes lit up in happiness. By some stroke of pure genius, Eren had managed to charm a smile out of Levi too. _Rivaille’s face when he smiles_ , he’d scribbled at the bottom. That was the thing about Eren. He did not just radiate happiness but wanted others to drink from his fountain too. No matter how much he was mistreated, kicked, he never gave up believing. Never gave up on his admiration and love for that stoic guardian of his.  

'A polaroid,’ she remarked, examining it curiously. ‘Another of their archaic inventions. Interesting,' she said, passing a furtive glance at Levi. 'It's funny how attached they're to the physical medium.'

'Yeah, fuckin' sentimental,' Levi muttered, not really paying attention.

'Not like us,' Hanji noted, as she removed the picture from its frame. She held it up experimentally. 'You never cared for him, right?'

'No,' Levi answered her with broken sentences. 'Never. Good riddance.'

Hanji patted her pockets, found the thing she was looking for and drew out her lighter. She flicked it on.

She held the flame to the corner of the picture. 'So, you won't mind if I burn this to smithereens—'

There was an abrupt movement. Hanji watched in amazement as Levi got to his feet and moved towards her in one fluid stride, clamping a hand over the flame and extinguished it in the ball of his palm.

Silence enveloped the space between them.

The bespectacled lieutenant broke into a knowing smile.

'Thought you didn't care,' Hanji observed astutely.

Levi didn't try defending himself. He snatched the Polaroid from her fingers and buried it in his shirt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 


	27. Three Cardinal Rules

 

 

Chapter-27- Three Cardinal Rules

~.~

 

 

One week.

It had been one week since Eren returned to the familiarity of his dorm room at Sylvan University. One week since he'd tossed his gear and the new comm. into the wastepaper basket under his desk. The wristwatch which enabled him to connect to Gale lay ignored and forgotten amidst scraps of rubbish. It was the last remnant of his connection to Titan. His last connection to... well, _that_ one guy and anything else that had once meant something to him.

Dot Pixis had gifted the watch (or rather, blithely tossed it) to him almost as an afterthought.

'Good luck on the other side, Jaeger,' he’d said. The old man’s lips unfurled into a snide smile directed at Eren. 'Stay out of trouble,' Pixis told him while raising his flask of whisky in good cheer.

Stay out of trouble, huh?

It wasn't really Eren's fault that he attracted trouble like a magnet.

[PeaceCorp Rule 1: You're bound to serve and protect till death. That is your blood _oath_.]

What was he supposed to be protecting?

And against who?

Funny enough, neither the questions nor their answers seemed worth chewing over. No, not anymore. He was so done with it.

Eren's room turned out to be an apt metaphor for his state of mind. It was an utter mess with laundry strewn across the bed, under the bed, over the headboard, his desk chair and pretty much every nook and corner except the laundry hamper where _dammit,_ dirty clothes were supposed to go. He could imagine a ticked off voice in his head, making its little sound of disapproval, and badgering him to sort the place out immediately. _Filthy,_ the voice would have said. _Worse than a garbage chute, Eren. How can any sane person live in a dump like_ —

Eren clamped down on that voice. And miraculously, it went away.

Just how much of that one guy had he internalized over the last eight years?

It had been a week since he left Titan. Eren had arrived in the thick of night and stumbled into his bed, not greeting anyone on the way up to his dorm room. He’d cleared a space on the bed, small enough to tunnel through and buried himself in the heap of clothes.

The next day, he had a fever.

He woke up to find himself covered in a slick film of sweat, his temperature running high. All thanks to dousing himself for two hours in a bathtub and for bearing the brunt of Titan’s acidic downpour.  Of course, he had it coming. A cry went around. Eren Jaeger wasn’t invincible as he let on, it said. His bandages were stale and beginning to stink. He needed to take a shower. He needed to shave, for he could feel his stubble through a folded elbow. He needed to meet his mother too, but Eren didn't want to show up at the hospital with the sorry ass face that his mirror showed right now.

God, was that even him in the mirror?

Ordinarily, Eren could feign a smile. Put up a brave front. But this last trip to Titan had rendered him incapable of moving three steps out of his room. Heck, it had rendered him incapable of being the Eren that everyone knew.

He stayed in bed for a week: skipping on college lectures, skipping on food and skipping on all the normal things students his age were supposed to be doing.

Eren would have probably starved to death if not for Armin, the saint.

A concerned Armin brought him breakfast… and even snuck in dinners when he could.

Like right now. Armin placed a plate of toast, greens and a glass of cranberry juice on Eren’s study desk. The boy watched mutely as Armin picked up a mouse pad and nudged away a pair of unwashed briefs from the swivel chair. He pulled the chair to Eren’s bedside and sat down on the rickety stump with his blond locks clamped between his hands. He studied Eren for a quiet moment.

'Okay, spill,' Armin implored him. 'Out with it. What's happened to you?'

Eren remained silent, his brown head wedged so deep into the pillow that he could peer at Armin with just one eye.

'Eren,' the petit blond boy urged, leaning forward. He removed the thermometer that he had pried into Eren's mouth a little while earlier. Eren didn’t even have the energy to resist. His friend read the temperature.

Armin relaxed. 'On the _bright_ side, your fever's come down. But you're going to kill yourself at this rate. You’ve got to eat, Eren. What happened at—,’ Armin’s tone turned hushed here, eyes flickering to the open window warily as if spies could be listening in. ‘— _you know_ , military school? Did they kick you out? Do you want to talk about it?'

There was no answer from the boy in the bed.

'You do realise you have to give your remedial exams if you want to stay on. And with that arm...' Armin frowned at the bandages, not liking the condition of his right arm.

Eren's forehead wrinkled, and he locked a singular stare at the breakfast sitting on his table.

Armin sank back into the chair and sighed.

'And you need to speak to your mom. Mrs Jaeger has been worried sick. You left without telling anyone, doofus.'

Again, Armin Arlert couldn't rouse a single word out of his best friend. Eren was still staring at the food.

'Plus, your room stinks... I can't believe you're making me nag. I’m the same age as you, y’know—'

Eren sat up suddenly, startling Armin out of his monologue.

The blond watched as the boy scrambled out of the covers, like a man possessed, and huddled over to the breakfast that Armin had brought over for him. And then, staring at the dish, Eren Jaeger spoke for the first time in a week.

'What's... this?' the brunet asked, his hand hovering over the plate to point at it.

'Toast,' Armin supplied, beaming.

'It's... French Toast.'

'Yeah. So?'

Armin watched as a dark shadow stole through the taller boy's face.

‘He used to make me French Toast too… I thought I knew that pokerface. But man, oh man, he pulled a fast one on me.'

Armin stared at Eren’s back, rendered speechless.

'Um—’ he started, blinking in confusion. ‘Who are we talking about exactly?'

Eren went quiet; he was still looking at his breakfast, but there was suddenly a deep-seated ire in his expression.

'Armin, did you ever read that one story about French Toasts?'

The blond boy narrowed his eyes and replied with a noncommittal shake of his head. 'Um... no? Was there a story about toasts? I don't really recall any.'

Eren picked up the plate, glaring at it.

'So, you never heard how French Toasts are little demons who rip your heart from your chest, wring it like a rag, drive a hundred knives through it, stomp on it… and feed whatever’s left to the dogs. Yeah,’ he said, voice throaty and hoarse.  ‘That's exactly what they do. Fuckin’ French toasts.'

Armin's eyes widened a little at the idea of French Toasts attacking him out of a frying pan.

'Uh, don’t think I’ve heard it before— a grotesque story like that one.'

Eren turned and smiled forgivingly at his best friend before he took the plate to the window and tossed the slices out.

'Hey now!' bellowed Armin, rising from his chair. 'What the heck did you do that for? I brought that all the way from the dining hall, you jerk!'

Eren said nothing and flopped back on the bed, diving into his igloo like a polar bear off to hibernation.

Armin stared after him, flummoxed.  

'Fine,' Armin conceded after a long moment. 'If you hate bread so much, do you want me to get the potato salad next time?'

'No, definitely not potatoes either,' emerged the voice from the igloo. 'Potatoes watch your every move and sell you out at the first chance they get. Never trust them. Those stupid fucking potatoes.'

Armin cast an exasperated look at the ceiling, wondering if Eren had a beef with the entire vegetable kingdom.

From deep below the window ledge, a voice broke out. A voice which the college boys recognised to be Sasha's.

'HEY! Who threw a perfectly edible toast out the window? What a waste!'

Another voice accompanied it soon after.

'Damn it, Sasha!' Connie could be heard chastising her. 'Don't eat stuff off the sidewalk.'

 

 

 

Later that day, Eren decided to quit moping about French Toasts, potatoes and retrieved his comm. from the wastepaper basket. After what seemed like a lifetime, he switched the communicator on. The lights glittered in a sequence he’d well memorized over the years as Gale welcomed him back under its wing. The Titans had surprisingly left him alone. There was just one message waiting for him on the network.

'New partner assigned,' informed Gale. 'Rendezvous at gateway point 16 at twenty hundred hours,' it said.

A new partner, Eren thought dully.

He wasn't sure if he looked forward to it— working with someone new. Especially since his last comrade tried to kill him and stole the one thing in his possession, for which his whole life had been paraded. Yeah, paraded. There was no other word for it.

Twenty hundred hours.

That left him enough time to shower and visit his mother. And just like he'd predicted, she caught on to him. Despite his fake smile and despite narrating to Carla that one favourite joke of his about the milk factory portrait where the cheese block couldn't stop wondering why everyone was calling him.

Yeah, talk about cheesy.

But then again, Eren felt like rotten cheese himself.

He slunk his head into the meadow of his mother's lap and gave a deep, resounding sigh. Carla Jaeger placed a hand over her son’s head, her warm fingers raking through strands of his brown hair. Her hand was shrunken and knobbly at the wrist; she grew frailer by the day.

'You're depressed,' Carla observed, petting him. 'I can see it.'

'No,' said Eren. 'I'm good. Better than I could ever be.'

'Liar, liar, pants on fire,' his mother murmured into the silence. She did love her rhymes, her limericks, and took on a childlike aura sometimes.

Still burrowed in her lap, Eren twisted his head to glance up at her. He watched her in the long silence, feeling the draught of words. He took her hand and squeezed it in his, realizing how brittle her wrist had become.

And there was that voice in his head again, taunting him.

_You were just running away. Running away from the fact that you can't help your mother. Running away from regret and desolation._

Eren closed his eyes, trying to ward off those cruel words.

'Knock, knock,' he said.

'Who is it?' Carla asked, humouring him.

'Eren.'

'Oh, Eren who?'

'Eren who is fucking sorry about never being there when he is needed.'

He felt his mother’s hands ruffle his hair.

'Don't be, my son. Don’t be. It’s not your fault.'

[PeaceCorp Rule 2: Honourable, loyal and to live for others before _self_.]

 

 

 

Gateway Point Sixteen turned out to be the woods outside a yesteryear primary school. He could hear the see-saw in the playground creaking with the night's breeze. Eren drew out the green hoodie from his backpack, the gear and the comm. as well. He pulled on his parka and found himself a good spot on top of a cedar tree for his vigil. With the help of a single stretch of cable, he climbed to the thickest branch and sat down against the cedar's trunk, waiting for whoever was supposed to be his fellow keeper.

The comm. blinked steadily, meaning the gateway was just overhead. He could make it appear, but he'd never be able to pass through it.

Not anymore.

Besides there was nothing for him on the other side.

He looked at his watch ill-tempered and found it to be five minutes after twenty hundred hours.

Whoever his new partner was, they were running late, and Eren's stomach grumbled in complaint.

He thought he heard something in the bushes, but it turned out to be just a raccoon trying to be stealthy. When half an hour had passed, Eren swung down by his gear and walked over to the school grounds where he sat down on a swing, brooding.

He wondered if coming out into the open would encourage his fellow Corp to identify him sooner.

When the watch struck nine, Eren knew it was time to call it quits.

Eren Jaeger couldn't shake the rotten feeling that he'd been stood up.

When the peacekeeper returned to his dorm room, having stashed his equipment safely into his backpack, he was surprised to find Armin waiting out in the corridor. The blond held out a casserole this time.

'I thought you'd be hungry. So, I brought you spaghetti this time,' Armin proffered the dish before growing suspicious and withdrawing it from Eren's reach. 'Or do you have a conspiracy theory against spaghetti as well?' he asked, cocking up an eyebrow at his best friend, not trusting Eren or his antics.

Eren shook his head and grabbed for the casserole, giving in to the needs of his stomach.

He unlocked the door to his room and stumbled in.

'You're a saint, Armin, a goddam saint,' Eren acknowledged as he flumped down on his bed. He pried the lid off, picked up a fork with his left and dug in to the casserole. 'A saint,' Eren said between mouthfuls.

Armin watched him, growing fond.

'So, you want to tell this saint what really happened?' Armin asked. 'I'm not a fool, you know.'

Eren paused, green eyes meeting the blue gaze of his best friend.

[PeaceCorp Rule 3: Never tell anyone that you're _one_.]

 

 

* * *

 

 


	28. Guns and Roses

 

 

Chapter-28- Guns and Roses

~.~

 

 

The universe, the whole cosmic universe, had it in for Eren. There was no doubt about it. The lady in the university's admin office gave him the once-over, looking at him over her wire-rimmed glasses and giving him a look. Oh, he knew that look alright. The supercilious pinching of the nose, the sucking in of the cheeks and giving Jaeger the infamous 'You're not worth my time, son' cursory glance. She regarded him and his arm sling with as much enthusiasm as she had for baby buffaloes.

'Oh, rugby injury?' she asked and before he could even summon an answer, she shook her head, disagreeing with herself. 'No, you don't have the build,' she trailed thoughtfully, her eyes straying over to Eren’s shoulders. Broad but not the sort rugby needed. Her eyes lit up again. 'Mm, tennis?' she thought out loud this time before frowning. 'Odd, I’ve never heard of anyone crocking their elbow at tennis though.’ She continued speculating, now getting into the core spirit of her investigation. 'Could it be football? Nah, he doesn’t seem the reflexive type. Must have got beaten up,' she finally concluded. 'Yes, this one is most definitely a troublemaker.'

Eren narrowed his blue green eyes at her and tapped her desk, trying to draw her attention.

'You know, ma'am, I _can_ hear you.'

She stopped her speculation.

'Yes, Mr Jaeger, what can I do for you today?'

Eren fished out a paper from his vest pocket. 'What you can do… is explain to me why this was put up on the notice board?'

Mrs Hoffman with her hairnet, pink cardigan and wire rimmed spectacles, looked at the paper and shrugged. 'That's the schedule for your remedial exams.'

Colour drained from his face.

'My what?'

'Exams,' elucidated the woman. 'You know, those itty-bitty things you need to pass for getting your graduation degree? It’s what you’re getting financial aid for. Your first exam is tomorrow, by the way. Good luck.'

Eren held up his arm sling.

'Hold on. How do you expect me to write with this?'

Mrs Hoffman gave him a sour look.

'The university will arrange a scribe for you, dear. Someone to write your exam while you dictate. That is, if you have any brain matter to dictate with.'

Great, there went his first excuse.

'And who’s going to be my scribe?'

The lady opened a register and ran through a list of names.

Eren squeezed his eyes shut, silently praying.

_Please be Armin, please be Armin. I will clean my room. Heck, do my laundry too. Just please, for the love of God and all the puppies in the world, let it be Armin._

'Jean. Jean Kirstein.'

_Thanks a lot, universe. I hate you too._

Eren paled.

'Can I get it changed? Anybody else would do!'

Mrs Hoffman shook her head.

'I'm sorry. He is the only scribe available.'

She handed the schedule back to him and as Eren began walking away, muttering curses under his breath, he heard Mrs Hoffman call out for him again.

'Mr Jaeger, what _did_ happen to that arm of yours?' she asked curiously.

Eren stopped, turning to look at her with a straight face.

'Oh, I got electrocuted while saving Earth from a massive Titan invader.’

Mrs. Hoffman looked long at him.

And then, she heaved a sigh.

'Still into comics, huh?' she said, returning to her admin duties with a polite shake of her head.

When Eren returned to his dorm room, he found a visitor lounging outside, leaning against the wall, wearing his olive padded jacket and reebok slacks, head tipped back, as if he was king, and this stretch of a hallway his mighty dominion. Jean Kirstein hadn't changed much since their childhood days. His face was still long, hair that twin colour of mildew ash brown, hence the name 'horseface'— the title Eren had bestowed on him so generously. Though the peacekeeper felt inclined to change it to ‘fuckface’ or ‘obnoxious weed’ every now and then. Despite the years spent growing together, they could hardly stand being in the same room.

At Eren’s approach, Jean raised a hand in greeting.

'Yo,' he intoned. 'So, it seems I'm your scribe for next week,' the taller boy began amicably enough.

Eren glared at him as he jabbed a key into his lock and swung open the door to his room.

Jean waited for a return greeting, but it never came.

'Hey, what's with that look?' Jean grunted. 'Is that any way to be treating your benefactor?' asked the ashbrown, crossing his arms, while moving to the threshold of Eren's room and trying to sneak a glance in. 'I mean, you should be thanking me, Jaeger. Here I am, taking my precious time off to help you with your pitiful grades—'

The door slammed close on Jean, almost hitting him square on the nose.

He rubbed the feature delicately and regarded the closed door.

'Fine, Jaeger. I was just trying to make small talk. Thought I'd drop by and give you a heads up about the Classical Mech paper,' he shouted over the door, hoping the other could hear him. 'Hall Coral. Ten o clock tomorrow. Prepare well and good luck. Hell, you're going to need _all_ your luck with me around.' Jean let out a bark of laughter and left.

 

 

 

Eren decided to pull an all-nighter and get it done. He was of course helped by Armin's notes. His desk was a clutter, a mess of papers, calculators, references and stationary that daunted more than helped him. But he vowed to take it down. This two-headed monster of Jean Kirstein and Classical Mech.  Satan and Satan's best friend, he liked to call them. And he was going to make Jean eat humble pie. He was sure of it.

His turquoise green eyes moved furiously over each line of the notes: absorbing, assimilating, and when nothing else worked, _cramming._ He hoped to God that he would remember this stuff tomorrow. At some point, his eyelids began to droop, and he caught himself falling asleep. Eren reckoned he now had a third head to defeat. And perhaps, this one was the most difficult of all.

The third head of Kerberos called Sleep.

Eren dug through his drawers, trying to get something to chew on. Gum, mint, anything to keep his jaw moving and stay awake. He didn't find gum, but he did discover something else.

A Polaroid.

And he wished he'd never seen it.

It was one of two pictures taken two years ago. He had to literally bribe the barkeep Reiner to take a snap of the two of them. The photo had a caption too, written when he’d been too naïve and drunk in love. 

 

_Rivaille's face when he smiles._

 

Something clenched deep inside him; and in a sudden burst of rage, Eren threw the picture down into the bin. He raked his fingers through his brown hair and forced his attention back to Armin's notes determined to not feel guilty about it. About the picture sitting in the trash.

 

The law of gravitation states that a body—

 

The law of gravitation—

 

The law—

 

Defeated, Eren sank into his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. The night was dead silent, the dorm grounds empty and all the residents asleep. And here he was, feeling remorse for a photograph sitting in the trash. He bent under the desk and retrieved the Polaroid from the bin, holding it up gently before smoothing out its wrinkled corners. The anxiety of exams fled him, replaced by a serene emptiness. He placed the picture on his textbook and stared long and hard at it. At the grey eyed man caught in the moment. At himself caught in the moment. They’d been commemorating their first anniversary. Had all of it been a sham? When did the lies really begin?

Eren perched his head on a palm, wondering what Levi had been thinking at that time.

The weight of sleep began to drag at his eyelids. Eren closed them and found himself delirious with memories.

Eight years.

How does one take back eight years?

'You taught me how to fight, Levi. Taught me how to control my rage and how to choose my battles. You taught me to trust my friends and fellow soldiers. Even how to love,' Eren let out a chuckle. 'But you forgot to teach me the most important lesson,' he spoke into the silence of his dorm room, his hand quivering under the light of his table lamp. 'How to mend a broken heart. Because that's what I need right now. To forget you. And I'm trying hard, you know. But do you know why it's so fucking difficult? Because wherever I look you're there,’ he said. ‘After all this time, I still have your voice in my head... when you've probably washed your hands clean off me.'

There was that gut wrenching feeling again, and he snapped his eyes open, blinking the sleep out of them. He closed his textbook and buried the Polaroid within its pages.

Eren turned to his notes. 

_No. Don't remember. Not now._

He still had other monsters to defeat.

 

 

 

 

Mrs. Hoffman plugged her ears to her iPod and sat down behind the invigilators' desk, after having pointed their attention to the analog clock on the wall. 'One hour, Mr Jaeger, Mr Kirstein. One hour and I'll collect your answer script,' she said, crossing her legs and linking them at the ankles. And then, she was lost in her playlist.

The two final years exchanged a mutual look of loathing before taking their seats.

Jean turned to the blank sheet of paper before him.

'Name,' he read out loud, getting right down to business. 'Oh, I know this one. Suicidal Bastard, right?'

'Hey now,' Eren scowled, sounding miffed. 'You better not be writing that down.'

'Yeah, yeah. What's your number, big mouth?'

Eren regarded him suspiciously. 'What number?'

Jean’s mouth gave a little twitch here. 'Student number, you dipshit,' he said, a thin veiled smile coming over him. 'You think I'm asking you out?'

Eren frowned at the insult but conceded.

'663120,' he replied churlishly.

Jean nodded, noting them all down faithfully. 'Alright. First question goes like this—'

Eren grabbed the sheet from him, scowling at the other boy. 'Horseface, I can't write but I can read! I don't need you to read it out to me like I'm some two-year-old kindergartner.'

Jean held up his hands in defeat and sighed.

'Fine. You want to read? Go, right ahead, boss.'

He watched as Jaeger read through the parchment and settled into an odd, contemplative silence.

‘You don’t know the answer, do you?’

‘Shut up. I know this,’ he mulled it over, drumming his fingers over the edge of the table. ‘The answer is g cross m1 cross m2 by r,' Eren replied after making up his mind.  

Jean looked at the boy, unable to contain his surprise.

'You're supposed to write it down,' the brown head prompted in annoyance. Despite the fierce rebuke, Eren pressed a hand to his mouth and yawned. Sleepy. He felt so worn out and sleepy, it was a struggle just to sit through this test.

Jean picked up his pen and giving the fellow a meaningful look, he wrote down Eren’s answer, speaking the words out loud.

_Doesn't know._

Eren gave a mean growl that reverberated through the hollow of the test room. Giving Mrs Hoffman a watchful look, he turned sharp and kicked the boy under the table.

'What the hell, you're a scribe!’ he hissed. ‘Do what scribes are supposed to do, asshole. I didn't stay up all night to fail this shitty semester!'

Jean watched him intently as if he were introspecting his next course of action. He proceeded to scribble down what Eren had just said as an answer to question two.

'Called me an asshole,' he parroted back, writing the words down. 'And called the semester shitty,' Jean concluded neatly.

Eren buried his face in his hands. With a sigh, he let his head slump across the desk.

‘Thanks,' he said, his voice eerily not carrying the venom from before. The bitterness had sapped out of him. 'Go ahead and screw me up. I mean... what else is left—' but strangely Eren never finished what he had intended to say.

Jean decided to cut him some slack.

'Question three,' Jean announced but there was no answer from the lump beside him. He paused and looked at the brown-haired prat beside him. Eren’s head was lost in the fold of his left arm. 'Question three,' Jean repeated, clearing his throat and speaking a little louder this time.

‘Hey dipshit, you listenin’?

There was no sound from the boy next to him.

Jean reached out with his pen and flicked the strands of hair away from Jaeger's face.

He almost laughed.

Eren Jaeger had fallen flat asleep.

Jean watched him for a long time. The boy looked peaceful and less edgy when he slept. Surprising for a boy who had been raging just a minute ago. Giving Mrs Hoffman (still plugged to her iPod) and the clock a furtive glance, Jean tore off the first sheet of the script and started anew.

He didn't know why he was writing the twerp's paper for him. Perhaps, Jean felt guilty for having stood him up the other day. Or maybe because Eren looked like a mess ever since his return.

But here he was, Jean Kirstein doing the paper for him.

The universe worked in strange, mysterious ways.

He decided to leave it at that.

 

 

 

Jean was collecting his bag from the lockers outside Coral Hall when he heard footsteps stomp towards him.

‘Why didn't you wake me up, you jerk! Oh God, why?' Eren demanded, sounding every bit outraged.

Jean shrugged and closed the locker, being the very picture of calm.

'Pipe down. I wrote the paper for you. You'll get a decent B, don't worry.'

Surprisingly, this seemed to aggravate the young man even more. If Jean had expected the boy to fall at his feet and declare eternal servitude, Eren did nothing of the sort.

'Why would you do that? I studied all night for it. I knew all the answers for once,' the brunet ranted, and something flashed in Eren's eyes. Revulsion, ire, and he turned to give Jean a withering, cold stare. 'Oh, I get it,’ he snapped. ‘You like it when people owe you favours. Is that how it works with you, horseface?’ Eren scoffed and straightened up, holding his own. ‘I don't need your pity, man. Just wake me up next time!'

Eren retrieved his books from the locker, slammed the door shut and went storming off down the corridor, a taut wire strung across his shoulders, threatening to snap at any time. A Molotov cocktail ready to be thrown— that was Eren Jaeger in a nutshell.

Jean watched as something slipped from Eren's books and floated down to the floor.

'Hey, dipshit, you dropped something,' Kirstein yelled after him, but Eren had long passed out of earshot.

Jean stooped down to pick it up and turned it over.

It was a picture.

Of Eren and a man he'd never seen before.

'Interesting,' Jean said to himself and scratched his chin thoughtfully.

 

 

* * *

 


	29. Two Worlds Apart

 

 

Chapter-29- Two Worlds Apart

~.~

 

 

It was twilight in the world of Titan, twilight in the world of a pale-skinned misanthrope in the apartment of 1263. Wisps of dark hair lay spread in the sink, sheered by the trimmer in his hand. He had smoothed his undercut to a slicker, cleaner layer. He ran a hand through it, feeling the rough lines and glanced at his reflection. Shadows hung under his eyes. He had half an urge to shave the whole head, but it wouldn't help. He would only succeed in arousing suspicion. And in times like these, it was best to be as inconspicuous as possible. As far as the watchdogs were concerned, he was a marked man, easily recognizable by his prints, his retina and his face. Keep the face, bide your time. The moment for drastic measures wasn't here yet.

Levi rummaged through the medical cabinet, clearing the shelves, chucking away medicine bottles long past their expiry dates and tossing out tubes of foaming cream and sundry. He threw them into the trash, hearing them tumble down to its depth. The stock of bandages was running low, but there was no one in 1263 who needed them anymore. His hands stilled at the thought, and there was a small, momentary flicker of emotion in his ordinarily impassive face. Levi's grey eyes roamed to the bathtub, half expecting a young man to be sitting shivering behind the shower curtains. There were times when he waited for an over-zealous teenager to emerge out of it, gasping for air. But the tub was empty and what else did he really expect?

The boy was gone, but his words were still here to haunt the man.

 

_I loved you so goddam much._

_Fucking married you._

_I carried the weight of worlds, so I could stay by your side._

_And you turn around and stab me in the back._

 

The words stung like sulfur. Just like the lingering touch of Eren's fingers on his flesh, clawing, digging and grappling for answers from him. Levi ran his hands under the cold water and wiped them dry, his every movement meticulous, trying to ward off memories and that voice. He gave the tiled room one final glance in scrutiny.

That took care of the bedroom, the bath and the kitchen. Only one place left.

He walked into the sitting room and glimpsed at the litter of glass shards, the telescreen battered on the wall, and the upturned coffee table. Ten days and the ruins were still there, mocking his sensibilities. Ten days, and he was still holding on to the chaos. Why, a part of him chastised. Wasn't he the one who had decided to let go in the first place?

And yet, Rivaille Levi, who had hitherto never tolerated any lapse in cleanliness and order, could not bring himself to set the living room right. Because the chaos was the only sign that someone else had lived with him all these years. The only proof of the sun besides the wedding ring he carried in his pocket. Grimacing at that thought, Levi moved to the kitchen and brewed himself a cup of sage tea. It would be his last tea here, he knew.  

Holding the cup by its rim, he drank it down in the silence of twilight, drank it in the absence of green eyes forever watching over him in ardor. _Eren,_ he'd reprimanded the youngster one night at dinner. _Stop looking at me like that._ The boy grinned in return. _'Like what?'_ came the next question. _Like you worship me,_ Levi wanted to tell him back then. _When I don't deserve it._

Levi wondered when the switch had taken place. From being Eren’s guardian to something more, and if it had been wise to blur those lines.

There was one consolation in his scheme; the boy was back where he belongs, Levi reminded himself. When the last drop of the sage tea had seared past his throat, a determination came over him. He washed the cup and returned it to the kitchen cabinet, closing the door gently. He moved to the refrigerator, drawing out old ammunition: the P87 Ruger, a semi-automatic pistol, and his zirconium blades from cold storage. He checked the safety on the guns and inserted them into the holster over his white shirt. The blades, he compressed to their hilts and put them away into a break-proof case. Levi slipped on his gloves by his teeth and gave the apartment a last look. His gaze lingered on the familiarity of objects and the past they represented.

All throughout, he was aware of the droid dog watching him.

Levi looked at it from the corner of his grey eyes.

Sighing, he walked over to it.

'I'm going far, Krobe. I may not be coming back.'

The metallic dog drew in its head, seeming to reflect on his words. It gave a low bark.

'What will happen to you, you ask? Well, I want you to decide that for yourself, dopey. I could take out your batteries or leave you in Hanji's care. The choice is entirely yours.'

Krobe gave an audible whine at the mention of the lieutenant. (Hanji's excitable nature of dissecting things did not sit well with the droid. And rightfully, so.) Levi watched as Krobe skittered past him, shuffling out into the living room, and he waited as it ferreted about in the hall in search of something.

The dog returned soon enough, dragging a small photo frame in its jaw.

It dropped the spoils at Levi's feet and looked up at him, wagging its tail in earnest.

Levi picked up the frame and found it to be a picture of Eren and his friends. He met the dog's beady red eyes in surprise. Krobe gave a low, mechanical whine from its throat. Levi’s expression softened, and he knelt to tweak its ears.

'After all the time you two shitheads spent quarreling with each other, you miss him, huh?'

Krobe gave two barks and leaned in to the Corporal's touch.

His lips twitched to a small, imperceptible smile. He exhaled deeply, looking around the apartment at all the signs of Eren that refused to part with him. 'Yeah, well... that makes the two of us,' he admitted in the icy silence of 1263.

The dog perked one ear up and lifting an impatient paw, it nudged the picture in his hand.

'Hm, is this your choice?'

Krobe barked once.

Levi thought it over. He got up soundlessly and called out to Gale, the network.

'Connect me to Erwin Smith.'

Gale clicked and went to work.

'Levi,' discerned the smooth voice of the PeaceCorp commander as he picked up the call. 'I was expecting you.'

Levi nodded solemnly and began removing the picture from its frame.

'Erwin. I need a favor,' he said and looked to Krobe before correcting himself. 'Two, actually.'

 

 

 

 

Eren decided to spare Armin the trouble of bringing him dinner that night (as endearing as the casserole delivery service was turning out to be.) He climbed down the stairs of the dormitories, slid past statues of academic patrons and entered the noisy hubbub that was the dining hall. Communion dinner was always a noisy affair at any university, Sylvan being no exception. Laughter and arguments carried to him as he approached it, a boisterous rumble that echoed through the whole space of the giant hall. He spotted circles of friends dressed in gym shorts and team shirts, sharing inside jokes and clapping each other on the backs. Maybe another viral video, maybe another juicy rumor. There were couples having dorm dates on the lawns, and packs of study groups making plans for assignment deadlines. Eren hoped he would be able to blend into this crowd, that his absence hadn’t been overtly noticed.

And yet, everybody became eerily silent when Eren walked in. _Everyone_ was looking at him, and he saw a few heads huddle together to whisper fiercely among themselves. Granted, he’d never been a crowd favorite, but _this_ was something else. Was it the arm sling?

Eren walked over to Armin's side gingerly and sat down beside him, pulling at his best friend’s sleeve.

'Uh, Armin, is there something on my face? A smudge of ink? Or dirt?'

Armin who had his nose buried in a thick book, said no without looking up. Eren posed the question to the couple sitting across him. The two barely heard him. Sasha shook her head and returned to squabbling with Springer over the last bite of his frozen yogurt. Connie nodded at him, while trying to ward off Sasha's hand from his plate. 'Yeah, Eren. I know what’s wrong. You’ve got your idiot face on.'

‘Gee, thanks,’ Eren said with a roll of his eyes and giving an uneasy glance around, he settled down for his tofu salad and hamburger rolls. Yet all through his set meal, the brunet had the uncanny feeling that everyone was watching him, their stares drilling holes into the back of his head.

Eren felt unnerved; he couldn't shake the niggling suspicion that something was off. Yet, no one in his year came forward to tell him what was wrong. His friends didn’t even seem to notice this strange treatment. Eren finished his meal quickly and decided to call it a day. He stood up, tossed the meal wrapper into the trash can and moseyed out of the dining hall, rubbing the base of his neck and frowning to himself. And when he left, he heard the giant hall erupt into snickers.

Weird.

Totally weird.

The reason became apparent when he walked into class the next morning, picking out a Black Sabbath tee from the pile of clothes he’d washed at the laundromat and a pair of navy blue jeans. It was a decent ‘get-back-to-school’ look, he decided. When he arrived, he found Armin pacing outside the lecture room, looking distraught and edgy. His best bud was wringing his hands into his white shirt as if it was time for midterms and Armin Arlert had been caught unprepared.

Armin went pale when he saw Eren, color draining from his face.

The blond seemed to have anticipated his coming for he shuffled over to the peacekeeper and caught Eren's shoulder.

'Eren— ' he began nervously. 'Hey, listen, um, I think you should stay in your room today and wait for things to blow over.'

'Huh? What things?' Eren asked, wondering why he was being pushed out of the classroom… instead of being led inside. 

Armin stared at him, frail features looking awfully distraught.

‘Don't tell me. You... haven't seen the meme yet?’ Armin’s dread deepened. ‘Right, I forgot you aren’t on any of the social networks. Oh god, it's a good thing you're so out of the loop. Such a good thing.'

Eren's forehead turned wrinkled. He gave Armin a confused look.

'Armin. What's going on? What meme?’ he asked before a grin made its way across his lips. ‘Is it something funny? Another of those cat jokes? Or is it a vine?' asked Eren, beaming unexpectedly, and turned forcibly towards the classroom. 

Armin let out a groan; he grabbed Eren’s arm to yank the idiot back.

'No, Eren. It's nothing funny, I swear. Just go back to your room, will you? I will take care of things out here.'

'Things? What are you _talking_ about?'

Eren began to note the signs. His best friend chewed on a lip and refused to meet his eye.

‘What’s going on, Armin? Come clean,’ Eren said to him, growing tense from the silence.

'Okay, please don’t get mad. I'm sure it started out as a joke. Since you're not around much, people find odd things to hold grudges about.'

It clicked in Eren's head that Armin was talking about _him._

His heartbeat ratcheted up; he could feel the beats straight in his throat. The peacekeeper could feel the anxiousness building up inside him. No, calm down. How bad could it really be? Eren slithered out of Armin's grasp and stepped into the classroom, preparing himself for the worst. Fluorescent lights hung brightly overhead, illuminating the room in a rich shade of white. Thirty odd pairs of eyes looked at him expectantly the moment he stepped in. A few greeted him with a snicker, others brought out their phones and started live streaming. Some of his peers started to point at the whiteboard and broke into giggles.

Eren frowned and turned to the sight behind him. To the centerpiece of today's attraction apparently.

There, covering three-fourths of the wall, was a blown-up picture printed on canvas.

Of him and... Levi.

And the caption equally magnified so that no one in the two-mile radius could miss it.

 

Rivaille's face when he smiles.

 

Rivaille's face when he smiles.

 

Rivaille.

 

_Shit._

 

If _only_ it had ended there. But no, it wouldn't. People had doodled all over the picture with crude remarks of 'Eren Faeger', 'SO GAY', 'This is what I did last summer', and so on. Someone had even taken the pains to draw a mustache on the grey eyed man in the photograph. On the one man Eren was trying so desperately hard to forget.

Eren stared numbly at the picture, aware of the taunts behind him. Someone tossed a crumpled ball of paper at the back of his head. It hit him and fell weakly upon impact. Soon, everyone was chucking things at him, trying to get a rise out of Eren Jaeger, the soldier of two worlds. Erasers, paper balls and even a compass. Because where was the fun if the beast didn't rage?

Much to everyone's surprise, Eren ignored them all and walked over to the canvas quietly. He reached for the picture and tried to unwind it from the hooks. He could hear Armin defending him bravely.

'Come on, guys. This isn't remotely funny! This is bullying! You guys could get into trouble if I report—'

'Shut up, Arlert. You're as bad as him, faggot!'

'Aw, come on, Eren. Aren't you even going to tell us off?' someone asked. 'Get angry, dude!'

'Who is this ‘Rivaille’?' asked a girl.

'Yeah. Do tell us,' said another, letting out a grating hyena like laugh. 

'So, Jaeger, this is what you've been up to in your six-month absences? Been doing him all this time?'

With his back turned to them, Eren raised his left hand, fingers grabbing onto the fabric of the canvas. Exhibiting a strength and calmness that surprised even him, he yanked it off and the picture came down with a flutter like curtains to the last act. He rolled the canvas into a lump quietly before dropping it to the floor and kicking it to a corner. It was fine, really. People were cruel, the world was cruel and that was a reality he had to learn to accept. This world wasn't really a blue green world like he was inclined to believe. Sure, there were sharks, whales, snow-capped mountains, oceans of impenetrable depths… but there was also the filth of humanity co-existing with this beauty. Humanity that apparently, he was supposed to protect. Because where there were giant whales, there were also the harpoons hunting them. Where there were oceans, there were oil rigs polluting the diaspora of life. He wasn't going to be spurred into that mad rage of his. No, he knew how to control it.

Right?

Of course, that was until someone decided to bring up his mother.

'Hey Eren,’ crooned a male voice. ‘Is it true your mom is in the loony bin?'

His body twisted with a snap, his steps ricocheting in the silence as he strode over to the idiot’s desk. Hoover, being the guy who had let slip that careless remark. He knew this guy. Eren had known him since freshman year. Curly hair, head like the dug-up root of a tree and drove a Maserati to school. In one swift move, Eren caught hold of the fellow's arm and twisted it behind his back, slamming the jerk face-first into his desk with the faculty of just one good hand. All Eren saw was red— that familiar color of blinding fury. He let it consume him.

A hush fell over the entire final year classroom.

'OW! OW! OW!’ yelped his classmate. ‘Let me go, man!' he whined. 'Dammit, Jaeger. It wasn't me who started this!'

Eren stared at the back of his head.

'Who then?' he snarled.

Hoover was quiet.

The boy winced when Eren slammed him harder against the desk. Hoover winced again and turned slightly, lifting an arm to point to someone in the last row. Eren looked up and caught sight of a familiar face.

Jean Kirstein.

Jean was looking at him, arms crossed over his chest, and a hand pressed to his chin in thought.

Blue green eyes met hazel.

Eren shook his head in disbelief and released the idiot under him.

He walked back to the front of class.

'I hope you guys rot in hell, each and every one of you,' he told them in a voice that was on the verge of breaking. Eren Jaeger raised a hand to point it at the ashbrown in the last row. 'Especially _you,_ horseface. The deepest, darkest corner of hell is reserved for you. Believe me,' he vowed.

 

 

* * *

 

 


	30. Anger Management 101

 

Chapter-30- Anger Management 101

~.~

 

 

The mouth of the void closed soundlessly, swallowing his offering without complaint. Levi watched as he unravelled the last thread attached to the word 'home'. It was only a tumble to hell from here, and it would be a long, solitary one, like Milton's Night had foretold in the strange book he’d borrowed from the Library of Earthen Studies. A book Levi no longer carried with him. It served no purpose, after all. The gateway reverted to its arch form, the silence left in its wake deafening. It was as if the void itself had sucked away the company of sound with it. He took a step back and glanced at Erwin who was seated in a red armchair, watching over the entire stretch of thirty interstellar gateways in Titan Army's Headquarters, his expression keen but inscrutable.

Their gaze met, but no words were exchanged. Erwin understood, because this was Erwin Smith, the man who had persuaded him to join the PeaceCorps fifteen years ago. And Levi did not feel the need to explain himself or his actions. Despite their friendship, they remained soldiers first, one born and the other bred by the Titan State.

'I should thank you,’ said Levi. ‘Truth is... I have been meaning to thank you for a long time, Erwin,’' he said, walking over to the commander’s side. He searched his pocket for a handkerchief and having found it, wiped the machine grease from his hands. He pulled out his gloves and slipped them on, passing a glance at the large electromagnetic dome above them. There was a buzz of quiet electricity in the air. But there was no Gale here; the omnipresent voice of the network was barred from this realm of army headquarters.

'I wish I could say it’s my pleasure,' Erwin said with a barely-there smile, '—but it isn't always easy accommodating your requests, Levi. It’s not child's play to remove the engineers working this high security vault. But you are one demanding man as always.'

Levi smirked.

'If there’s anything you can do, it’s how to pull strings. Don’t deny it, Erwin.'

Erwin hummed in agreement, giving his companion a fleeting glance.

'Your insinuations don't flatter me,' he remarked, leaning against an armrest, his body built like a hammer. There was amusement in his blue eyes, but it faded soon enough. A sublime change took over the commander's demeanour. The well-greased blond hair parted to one side looked almost flattering under the lights of the vault.

'Are you really intent on going?’ he asked, his voice now grim and serious. ‘It's suicide, you know. The odds are stacked against you.'

Levi shrugged.

'As far as the State is concerned, I am dead anyway. Or are you going to stop me?' Levi prompted, humouring him with a smile.

Erwin shook his head.

'As a commander, I should. As a friend, I can only ask you to reconsider. You're going up against Mael himself. Are you prepared to lose everything for that cause?'

There was an upward twitch in Levi's mouth.

'Heh. You care about me? Since when?'

Erwin didn’t take the bait.

'Of course, I do,' he replied in all seriousness, his features softening. 'Your demotion caused me concern; so did the ploy set up by Darius. You are my best soldier, Levi; I trust your judgement. And I am sure there are others who care far more than I… and aren't afraid to say it out loud either. Did you even consider about how this affects _him_?'

There was a brief pause. Levi studied his gloved fingers in the quiet.

'Your insinuations don't flatter me either,' the shorter man chaffed. 'Besides, Erwin, he’s not even in the equation anymore. Did you forget what we decided before? That he would always be an asset and—'

Erwin supplied the rest of it. '— a liability, yes I know. But old friend, swear on your heart. He was more of an asset to you, wasn't he?' Erwin asked, directing a rueful smile at his comrade.

Levi didn’t acknowledge him with a reply. Not at once.

'I don't put a price tag on people,' he finally said. ‘I never will.’

‘You don’t surprise me,’ Erwin ruminated, giving the gateways a speculative look. ‘I always had a gut feeling you'd want to leave all this behind. When you asked me for access to the gateways today, for a moment, I did wonder…'

Levi snorted at this, turning listless.

'You assumed I was asking for me? That I was going to run away? Like a dog fleeing with its tail between its legs?'

There was a furrow in Erwin’s thick brow.

‘I wouldn’t put it that way.’

Levi gave a mirthless chuckle.

'Heh. I'm almost curious to know if you'd let me leave that easily.'

Another of those long, awkward silences passed between them.

Levi shook his head and resumed the awkward trail of their conversation. 'My place is here, Erwin. Doomed and condemned as it is. I don’t have a gateway fetish like you do.'

The blue-eyed commander sighed.

'They're the greatest achievement of our kind, Levi. Don't dismiss them so lightly.'

'Yeah? These rat tunnels? At what cost, Erwin? At what cost? Are you justifying the money, lives and sweat spent on these—' Levi waved his hand glibly at the large arches filling the room, looking at them square in disgust. 'People are being driven out of the borders every day, Erwin. Because the State is much too concerned about machines than humans anymore. Doesn't that strike you odd?'

'Well, sacrifices must be made,' was Erwin's single line defence. ‘For the greater good.’

'And I fucking hate the greater good,' Levi snapped crudely. Erwin’s ruthlessness irked him at times. 'Living beings. That's what I care about. Blood flowing through veins, heart pumping, the ability to feel, empathize, to survive— that's what we all should care about.'

Erwin shook his head, disagreeing.

'We are trying to forge an alliance with the blue world. That is what being a PeaceCorp means. Imagine the wonders that world holds, Levi. Imagine the possibilities. The word 'earth', my friend. Doesn't it mean _anything_ to you?'

Levi shrugged in nonchalance and picked up the satchel bag he’d deposited in a corner. He tossed it over his shoulders and headed for the exit. He paused at the shifting doors where he could muster an answer.

'Eren,' the Corporal said in a quiet voice. ‘That’s all it ever meant to me.’

 

 

_I upon my frontiers here_

_Keep residence; if all I can will serve_

_That little which is left so to defend_

 

 

 

'Eren, you need to rein in that bleeding anger of yours,' Levi had told him one day, after receiving a training report from Keith Shadis— a report which turned out to be a detailed thesis on all the shortcomings, misconduct and antics of a certain teenager. Shadis’s report wasn’t flattering, ran two pages long and when it ended, it certified Eren as a ‘disgraceful, inattentive, self-conceited troublemaker’. Eren should have protested this slander of his personality, but he found himself sinking in his seat instead… especially under the glare of the Lieutenant. They were sitting in the balcony of 1263, legs sprawled in front of them and having a quiet lunch together. It had been his second year in Titan, and his fourth time to visit Levi's lonesome apartment. (Yes, the brunet did keep a count back then.)

Sixteen-year-old Eren craned his neck, peering around at the strange plant helumbary growing in a ceramic pot. It was a vicious little creeper which sprouted thin white flowers that smelled eerily like lilies. His glance flitted to the dark hues of Trost's skyline next. It was dusk despite it being one in the afternoon. A TJ310 buzzed overhead in a smooth dive, carrying the banner of a 60% sale at a local mart. Wicked, Eren marvelled inwardly. This place was so damn _wicked_. He wondered what it would take to fly one of those.

The twenty-seven-year-old beside him frowned.

'I promised Zachlay I’ll keep you in line, and I will. Are you listening, brat?'

Eren nipped a bite out of his bagel and nodded, still engrossed in the architecture of the city.

'Uh huh,' he answered absentmindedly. ‘I’m listening, yes.’

'That should be yes, sir,' the older said testily.

Eren turned disgruntled.

'Yes, _sir,_ ' the boy said, seething at the correction.

'Better. And quit spilling crumbs all over my place. Krobe has better manners than you.'

Eren paused to glance at the glass doors where no doubt, a robotic mongrel sat huffing and fuming at being locked inside. _Oooh, cozying up to my master, eh?_ He imagined the droid saying. _Just wait, you sleazy human. I'm onto you! Get back inside, and I'll show you who the real boss around here is!_

Ha, _as if_ , you little bastard, Eren stuck his tongue out at it.

'Eren,' Levi sighed in exasperation, having caught sight of the repartee between his ward and pet.

Eren cut his telepathic conversation short and turned back to his superior sheepishly.

Levi watched him out of the corner of his grey eyes, his gaze dark and smouldering as desert skies. What was it about this man, Eren wondered. One mere glance from his guardian made Eren’s heart thump and do a woozy. There was the cravat of Rorschach, the suavity (and bendiness) of Peter Parker and the brooding aura of Bruce Wayne all rolled into one. So unfair, Eren thought, wondering why all his comic heroes together couldn’t hold their own against this one guy. And he remained a man of contradictions. The hand holding the cup was lined with veins that looked like blue wires; Levi’s body though lacking in height was built like a vault.

And yet, his pseudo guardian Rivaille Levi remained unaware of his own charms.

Or the effect he had on Eren.

'— I better not receive another report on how you socked a fellow rookie. For the record, I don't like having to meet Shadis to hear another shitty complaint about you. Do you get me, juvenile?'

Eren protested the charge weakly.

'It was entirely Frank's fault. He was asking for it.’

‘Asking for it?’

‘Yep. He insulted my world. He had it coming, alright. Besides, what is wrong with being angry? It helps me kick-ass, and I'm guessing that's what I am being trained for by your stupid government.'

Levi turned to him, looking worse for wear.

'Which is why, you are still a clueless idiot. Anger hurts both ways. Your opponent as well as yourself. It's your body's instinctive reaction: Fight or flight. Whichever course you choose, you are bound to make mistakes. The next time you feel like raging, keep a hand on that heart of yours and feel your pulse. Maybe then, you’d try to calm the fuck down.'

Levi reached over and demonstrated by pressing his hand on the left side of Eren's chest.

'Hear that?' he asked Eren.

The teenager froze, his wondrous eyes widening at the sudden contact.

There was a silence though all Eren heard was the thumping in his ears.

'Hey Eren,' Levi whispered, a glint coming over his grey eyes. 'Does your heart... normally race like that?'

'Y-yeah. Always,' Eren replied, a little flustered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hiccups.

He had hiccups.

Not because there ought to be someone thinking about him, like the adage went. Because who in their right mind thought about an insignificant bugger like him. Angry tears were streaming down Eren's face. He was furious with himself for being so careless, for being attached to those cumbersome feelings. His left fist shot out to slam into a trunk, and he winced from the pain that travelled up his arm.

No, it was no good losing another arm over this, and he withdrew sullenly.

Eren flopped down onto the branch of a high cedar. In his desperation to get away from school, he’d ended up arriving at his last rendezvous point. He’d skipped the day’s lectures and taken refuge here in these mossy heights, his Black Sabbath tee wrinkled and wet. The gear was strapped to his back, and the young keeper realised that the equipment had its unseemly advantages. Especially in these moments of 'fight or flight'. He could escape the world, run away to these high spots, take refuge here and avoid making mistakes. Like hurting someone and getting suspended from school. Though his fist itched to break a few noses, Eren tried to put a lid on it.

It was no easy task. His eyes remained clouded with anger like the sky before a storm.

His backpack rested on the wood beside him. Eren slumped against the cedar's trunk, one leg dangling at the knee. Here he was, surrounded by the beauty and calm of nature's greenery, and he wondered where exactly was the calm and why the tears wouldn't cease. _No, stop crying for fuck’s sake._

He wiped his face against a sleeve and sniffled.

He wasn't a weakling. He was a proud PeaceCorp, 104th Squadron, Eren reminded himself.

 

_And since when do tears stand for weakness?_

 

Eren turned startled at this voice, this voice of memories.

 _No,_ the young keeper thundered in his head. _Leave me alone. You're the last person I want to hear from right now._

_Eren._

 

Eren brought up his right arm and bit into his wrist, to clamp down on that voice, to shut it away for good. He didn’t need to hear the lies again, not anymore. _This is what you wanted, right?_ He addressed the voice. _This is the home you wanted me to return to. I hope you're satisfied. You told me to fight my battles alone, and I'm doing it, you bastard. JUST THE WAY YOU WANTED ME TO!_

At this outburst, the voice of his conscience was gone, leaving Eren stranded in the middle of the woods.

He would have probably sunk into depression again if his watch hadn't beeped.

Surprisingly, Gale didn’t make an announcement, but Eren’s spot radar was picking up activity. Something was heading his way through the tunnel.

Peeved, Eren rubbed his face against his sleeve again, wiping away the mess of tears and snot. He swept the hair away from his eyes, picked up the hilt beside him and extended the blade to its full length. He’ll have to do with one of the pair. And then, holding the zirconium blade ready in his left, he waited, green eyes narrowed menacingly. He looked up at the invisible gateway, feeling battle lust course through his system. He hoped it was the Armoured Titan. All he needed was a target to work this excess anger off him. _C’mon, c’mon, wherever you are,_ he found himself chanting. After all, he did have a bone to pick with that armoured freak of old times.

The giant arch came into view, frame by frame, cackling with a wave of energy.

The void opened.

Here it comes—

Eren stared in a mix of mingled wrath and astonishment.

It wasn't the Armoured Titan. Nor an aberrant either.

A startled droid dog emerged from under the arch, barking in fits.

Eren froze, dropping his blade hurriedly and holding his arm out in reflex.

What—

What the hell?

The dog spotted him and doing intricate somersaults in air, the droid landed in the huddle of his left arm. Having settled into the crook of his elbow, Krobe barked at him in greeting.

Woof, it said.

Eren looked down at it, stupefied.

_Huh?_

Before he could even get his thoughts sorted out, Eren heard a shuffle in the leaves behind him. A cable whistled, piercing into the trunk of the cedar bearing his weight. And Eren stared bewildered as a second adversary arrived. Jean Kirstein arrived with pomp and flair, wearing the green parka of the PeaceCorps, the emblem of the wings of freedom screaming on his back.

Before Eren could process what was happening, Jean lurched towards him.

'Get down, Jaeger! I will get rid of that! DIE SCUM!' Jean yelled, drawing his zircon out and aiming a clean slice at the droid dog in Eren's arm.

Eren Jaeger did the only thing anyone in his position would have done. He guarded Krobe fiercely, and raising a foot, kicked Jean down into the tumultuous depths below.

And boy, did it feel _good._

 

 

* * *

 


	31. The Wild Side

 

 

  
Chapter-31- The Wild Side

~.~

 

Jean Kirstein knew what a boomerang felt like. And boy, oh boy, he was glad he was never born as one. Boomerangs must have it tough, he conceded with a groan. The tall man pressed a hand against his spinning head, feeling the strain in his thick brow. He’d expected gratitude, hero worship, maybe even a glittering promise of eternal servitude thrown in, but no, not this _demeaning_ kick to his chest. He watched the brunet land gracefully on the floor of the woods, stealthy like a dark shadow in the hour of the night. The guy toting his affiliation to Black Sabbath and hard rock was still holding on to the Titan mutt, his arm curled around the little beast protectively. Unpredictable Jaeger. Unpredictable like his explosive outbursts and bouts of temper. But there was no questioning the unbridled passion in those turquoise green eyes. But what was that passion for, Jean never really understood until two days ago.

'Jaegermeister, what the _hell_ was that?' Jean grumbled, sitting up and looking thoroughly miffed. 'You friggin' kicked me, you dipshit,' Jean said to the boy approaching him. ‘I was trying to save your ass.’ The ashbrown was never one to beat about the bush. Honesty was one of his few redeeming traits, and he liked to stick to what little charms he had.

Eren's grip on his blade tightened as he pointed it under Jean's nose, which effectively shut Jean up. The peacekeeper’s furious gaze travelled from Jean’s parka to the blade he’d dropped to the grass. There was a rumble from Eren’s throat like a dormant volcano threatening to erupt.

'You're a PeaceCorp,’ the brunet said in disbelief, as if still trying to convince himself. 'How?' Eren asked haltingly. 'Why?' he demanded, giving the sky a look of blasphemy. 'How the hell did someone like you even become a peacekeeper? That's just... _wrong_. So wrong.'

Jean rolled his eyes.

'Hey, watch it. That almost sounded like an insult,' Jean told him, giving the other boy a sour look. He hoisted himself up on his feet and dusted the grass off him. 'Yeah, I'm the new partner,’ he confided brusquely, extending a hand out. ‘104th squadron, Stonehess division. Great to meet you, suicidal bastard. Try not to die on me this time.'

Eren gaped and refused to shake his hand.

'Stonehess?’ he repeated, eyebrows shooting up. ‘You got scouted by the capital? The Titan capital?'

Jean dropped his hand and shrugged coolly, flicking a speck of dirt from his sleeve. 'Yeah, I was hoping I could make it into the Military Police. But apparently, the Titans have a zero tolerance for accepting Earthborns in their core brigade. What a bummer.'

'Why?' Eren asked, looking baffled. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Jean was a member of the corps, a fellow peacekeeper sworn to protect this world when all Jean Kirstein, the rich prat, had ever sworn to care about was his big fat ego. It was like people telling Galileo that the earth was centre of the universe. A pile of horseshit, that’s what it sounded like.

Jean sighed.

'Why _what_?' he demanded.

Eren looked him over from head to toe.

'Why did you even agree to doing this? It's just not... _you_.'

Jean glowered at the brunet. ' _That_ sounded like an insult too. And for the record, Jaeger, I wasn't too keen on the idea of being your partner either. Imagine how I felt when I saw you at this rendezvous point two nights ago—'

The revelation incited a guttural growl from Eren.

‘What?’

Jean realised that there was some truth to his nickname: Jean ‘big mouth’ Kirstein. Because as soon as Jean mentioned the little incident, Eren stepped dangerously close, poking an index finger into Jean's chest.

'That was YOU! You stood me up. And that's not even the worst part,' green eyes narrowed, a manic craze coming over them. 'You screwed me up before the entire university,’ he shook his head in disbelief. ‘If the Titans think I’m going to work with a douchebag like you, they’ve got another thing coming!'

Jean regarded the boy wryly. Eren was watching him in that quixotic mix of anger and honest-to-god brashness, which only the brunet could pull off. Jean sighed, brushed Eren’s finger off him and sat down on the cool, long leaves of grass. He searched vainly for a way to dispel the tension, sneaking a look at the elementary school beyond the woods, at the deserted children's park and was struck by memories of his own. He remembered their ice hockey games; their boxing matches, those detentions after school, and how much of Eren he had really seen growing up. But surprisingly, both he and Eren were nowhere close to ‘friends’ much less partners.

Jean sounded strangely sober when he spoke.

'Look. About what happened in class... I should apologize,' he said mildly. 'I swear, Jaeger. It was just for kicks. I didn't know they would take it that far. Honest to God, I didn't even know about your...’ Jean hesitated, not sure how he should broach the subject. He swallowed the dry lump in his throat and looked at Eren solemnly. ‘— uh, didn’t know about your mom. Sorry.'

He’d hoped the apology would suffice.

But it didn’t.

Eren crouched on the ground, letting the droid dog slip to the grass. The brunet turned to him, grabbed the lapel hood to Jean's parka and hovered before him, nose to nose.

'Kicks? Just for _kicks_?' the peacekeeper hissed, his tone rising. Eren grabbed a shoulder and shoved him back hard. 'You think we are still in high school? You think you’re some hot shit and can go around putting up my personal pictures? Was that even remotely funny to you, sicko?'

Jean huffed and held up his arms in defeat, trying to shove the boy's hand away.

'Look. I thought it was a past flame or somethin’. How was I supposed to know you were so fucking hung up on this Rivaille guy?’

Eren turned away, fuming.

'Hung up? Who's hung up on that bastard?’ he muttered under his breath.

The ashbrown rolled his eyes.

‘I believe the scientific term is— MOPING. That’s what you were doing a while ago. Moping. Dude, you’re so clearly hung up.’

‘I’m not! DEFINITELY NOT!' Eren muttered hotly under his breath, words emerging like spitfire. 'Fuck you. What do you know about me, Kirstein? What the hell do you even know about me?'

Jean gave a wry smile at that.

'Au contraire, I know enough. For one, you don't know when to give up. Two, you are pathetic at playing by the rules. And I know, you’ve been sitting on that tree and crying over the ‘bastard’—’ Jean did a finger quote here, ‘— for the last one hour.'

Eren gave a snarl and caught hold of Jean's shirt, bunching it between his fingers.

'Great, well, what do you know,' the brown-haired boy seethed. 'First, the State, and now I've got you keeping tabs on me. Do me a favour. And fuck off, _all_ of you.'

Jean frowned at the hand clutching his shirt.

'Uh, Jaeger...'

'I've had it up to my head with being tracked like I’m some criminal,' Eren ranted. ‘I have done NOTHING wrong!’

'Uh, hey, Jaeger?'

'If being a PeaceCorp means selling my soul, I'm not ready for that! I signed up to be a soldier to protect this world! So, I could be a hero... just like him. But guess what, I just realised that the last eight years I spent with that scheming pokerface were nothing but a lie!'

Jean went aghast.

'Dammit, Eren! Haven't you noticed yet?'

'WHAT?' the boy demanded.

‘Your arm, dipshit,’ Jean pointed at the hand grabbing his shirt.

Eren glanced down and found it to be his right hand.

 

 

 

 

 

In a land that resembled a meteor hit grey desert, thirty miles south-east of Trost, thirty miles outside of the skyscraper city's weather monitored boundaries, a turbo jet TJ690 smoked in the middle of the sand dunes. It smoked like a fallen bird. Like a hawk shot down from the sky. Toxic fumes rose from the carcass of the machine bird, rising in swirls into the dark sky above. The aircraft had skidded on the frictionless surface of the desert sand. Its left wing lay smashed into a boulder, and a puddle of fuel led to a dripping leak in the underside of the aircraft. A jeep arrived, kicking up a dust storm and drew to a stop near the mishap, keeping a measured distance from it. A tall, cloaked man emerged out of the driver's seat; panic and frenzy in his every step as he bolted towards the site.

Farlan cursed as he arrived at the wreckage. Careful of the fuselage, the blond man navigated around the fire smoking into the sky and climbed over the right wingspan. He tottered up the wreckage and reached the cracked glass of the cockpit, dread filling him all the way to his toes. He nudged the hinges open and was astounded to find the pilot breathing.

The man never ceased to surprise him.

Levi was alive. Though his breathing was forced, head bleeding.

Levi's narrow eyes fluttered open at the fresh air that blew in. His unsteady gaze found Farlan, steel grey eyes hidden in shadows. When he spoke, his voice was low and gruff.

'Took your... fine time, Church,' he said, pulling a face at his former comrade.

Farlan shook his head.

'You are out of your mind, you know that?' the man chastised him, unsnapping the seat belt and tried to get Rivaille out of the cockpit. There was an audible crack, which sounded too human for comfort and excruciatingly like bone. Levi winced, stumbling in his seat and leaned against Farlan's shoulder for support. But he refused to succumb to the pain.

Church struggled to untangle Levi's leg from the mishmash of wires and blood below.

The raven-haired man snarled, broke into expletives but stifled the urge to claw at his friend’s arm as they finally pulled out the leg.

Church cringed at the sight of his blood.

'You really are crazy.'

Levi lifted his head with due effort.

'Is that... the good kind of crazy or the bad kind?' the man with the undercut hissed in reply.

Church shook his head in disbelief.

Levi stifled a groan as he was helped out. Church hoisted one arm of the man over his shoulder, and they limped their way out of the smoking ruins. Church looked at the former vigilante. Levi looked alright despite his misshapen leg, cuts through his shirt and the bleeding gash on his forehead.

As they tread a slow walk to safety, Levi turned to his left and caught sight of two men standing by the jeep. He raised a hand, acknowledging them, and the men broke into smiles, bowing their heads in reverence.

'Is that... Magnum and Hunter? They've grown up,' Levi managed to comment, wincing as Farlan half carried him another stretch.

Farlan did the grunt work without complaint.

'Yeah, grown up enough to be fathering children themselves. Magnum knocked up Isabel, you know. Expecting a kid in two months.'

Levi's face registered surprise.

'Izzie? But she’s a child herself.'

'She was. Time doesn't stand still, Levi. Of course, not unless it's you. You’ve hardly aged in the last fifteen years.'

‘My lungs would disagree.’

Farlan led his injured friend to a cluster of boulders and made him sit on the middle one. He surveyed the wounds, the blond man's expression darkening at sight of the leg.

'You brought the body?' Levi asked, motioning to the jeep.

Church nodded and whistled to the men. His aides disappeared to the back of the truck and removed a limp figure wreathed in a mortuary's black plastic.

Rivaille looked at the funeral procession in distaste. Even if the funeral was supposed to be his.

'Whose body was it?’ he grimaced. ‘Should I even ask that?'

'Another nameless from Maria. Just got him out of refrigeration. It wasn't easy to match your physique and teeth records.'

Levi frowned.

'That better not be a cheap potshot at my height, Church.'

Farlan was relieved to hear him joking despite the wounds. Farlan Church pulled away what little was left of Levi’s shirt and ruminated over the cuts in silence. He lifted the leg and wondered if he could put a quick splint on it.

Levi winced slightly.

'Won't the family miss the body? How do you explain a cadaver walking out of a mortuary?'

'No. Kid didn't have a family. An orphan.'

A silence passed between them. Levi and Farlan exchanged a quiet glance in the silence of the embers.

'Like the rest of us,' Levi said, suddenly overcome by coughs. The fumes still filled his lungs, bile was in his throat and he fought hard to stay conscious.

He watched drearily as the two men proceeded to the burning ruins of the TJ and put the cadaver down. They unravelled it from its sheath of plastic, masking their noses at the stench of decomposition setting in. Just as they were about to toss it to the burning craft, Levi called out.

'Wait.'

Farlan watched as the former soldier rummaged through the pockets of his pants and drew something out.

Levi looked long at it, impassive as always, but his eyes gave something away. Farlan noted a pain in those stormy depths. And Church didn't think it was from the injuries alone. The rebel leader watched as Levi brought the silver band to the light, watching it in the embers of the burning hearth. Studying it, memorising it. In all the years that Farlan Church had known his former leader, he had never seen that emotion in Levi's eyes. He had seen the man broody, forlorn and depressed. He had seen the rage bottled and churning inside, quietly eating him away. But never seen him capable of this one emotion. Because what he saw in those grey eyes that night was akin to passion.

Levi pressed his lips to the silver band in a silent prayer. The raven-haired man closed his eyes for the smallest of moments. It was a short prayer. For when his grey eyes snapped open, there was a grim determination set in them. Levi tossed the object to Farlan.

'Put it on the dead man... That should help identify him,' came the directive.

Farlan looked at the wedding ring in his hand.

'Levi, are you sure...?'

'Do it.'

'But—'

Levi grunted and grabbed the ring again. He pulled his arm back and without a second thought, he tossed the ring to the ruins in what a certain Earthborn would have called a perfect baseball pitch. The two aides of Farlan watched the ring disappear into the rubble. They followed suit and prodded on, throwing the body as well into the burning embers. Levi watched the fire roar and consume the craft whole. The stench of fat burning filled the sand dunes that night. A human, a machine and a wedding ring consumed in the scorching fire.

Levi closed his eyes, yielding to his injuries. He slid down the boulder.

'Rivaille!' urged Farlan in alarm, trying to support him up. 'Rivaille!'

But Levi was swept away into the land of the almost dead. And in that weak moment, he remembered things that he had stowed to the back of his head. Old scenes from a life left behind. And a name buried deep.

_Eren._

_Remember that smoggy morning years ago, when I gave you the keys to the TJ and let you drive?_

_Against my better judgment, of course._

_You almost killed us, you moron. You’d have crashed us into a squeamish blot in the landscape. I made a vow to never let you drive again. Or let you come five feet within anything that worked on wheels. I said you were a disgrace to your school of mechanics. And you vented your spleen on the radio, flicking channels while you let me drive._

_And yet, all I remember is your laughter inside the mask, the constant yells of 'whoa!', the whoops with every jerk and dive, the sun against your back... Or was it the other way around?_

_You were always a brat._

_There's no going back from here._

_I hope you take care of Krobe._

_And I hope it takes care of you._

_Eren._

_Are you listening?_

 

 

  
Eren shivered.

The brunet paused, looking back at the empty road behind him. He had been scaling the wall of the university when he thought he heard a voice. He could have sworn someone was calling his name, could have sworn the feel of invisible lips across his nape. He felt a shiver run down the length of his body, and he searched the dim lit road behind.

A ghost?

Eren shuddered a second time.

The street was empty. Save for a Ford parked under a yellow streetlight and a drunken couple making out audibly in the backseat to Rihanna. He felt a tug in the cable and looked up to find Jean scowling at him. Or was the ashbrown scowling at the couple, one couldn't really say.

'Damn it, Jaeger, quit stalling. We are outside of curfew hours, you realise? If I had to stay out late, I wouldn’t mind a bit of action myself,' Jean grimaced, envying the car parked in the distance. ‘Hot damn. Do they have to do this in a public space?'

Eren nodded absently, for he wasn’t really listening. After one last lingering look at the street behind him, the peacekeeper resumed his climb up the wall of Sylvan University. Yet he couldn't shake off the feeling that someone had called his name.

The gear enabled them to sneak in past the guards, the warden block, until they reached the boy’s dormitory and encountered a dead end. The double doors were bolted shut from inside, and Eren gave them a mute kick in frustration, muttering under his breath about why peacekeepers had to be subjected to inane dormitory rules.

'This is all your fault, horseface,' Eren grumbled as they took to the grassy meadow around the building. 'Is your window open?'

Jean rolled his eyes.

‘If you'd spent less time trying to convince that stupid mutt into your bag and just skewered it, we would have made it in half the time,’ he retorted, wiping away the sweat from his face. ‘And no, my window isn't open. I don't want burglars sneaking in while I'm gone.'

Eren cursed, all his hopes fizzing out. He didn't have his window open either. In a nutshell, they were in a pickle. And he didn't really feel like spending another minute in horseface's company as enlightening as Kirstein seemed to think it was.

There was only one person who could help them now.

Hopefully, the saint was awake.

 

 

* * *

 


	32. Wings of Freedom

 

 

Chapter-32- Wings of Freedom

~.~

 

The saint had dozed off at sharp eleven, having done his assignments with due diligence. He had set the alarm for six am and snuggled under two layers of the comforter, blissfully cut off from the world and any idiotic friends it contained.

Eren threw three pebbles at the blond boy's window, croaked like a frog (which seemed to make Jean double over with laughter) and even resorted to whispering threats to the sleeping Armin about how he was going to throw a boulder next if the shortie didn't wake the heck up. The light to the dormitory room finally flickered on in the lazy blue shadows of the gibbous night. The glass window slid open, and Armin stuck his head out, eyes bloodshot like red tequila and hair— a complete rat's nest.

'Eren? What the hell!' blurted out his childhood friend, staring down at him grumpily. 'Do you know what time it is—'

Eren pressed a finger to his lips and gave a 'sshh' to silence him.

Then, both he and Kirstein proceeded to climb the pipe up to the first-floor ledge of Armin's window. All while the boy stared at the two peacekeepers in a mix of bewilderment and shock.

The zinc drainpipe was cold and slippery to the touch and had it not been for years spent in training, it would have been a difficult climb up. There were little ridges and bumps which gave some grip to grab onto. Eren stepped on ashbrown's nose twice (not regretting it in the least) while Jean complained about having to stare up at Eren's ass the whole way (though he didn't sound too pissed about it either). Eren emerged through the window first, making landfall in Armin’s room and straightened the backpack across his shoulder, Jean following soon after him.

When they were safely settled in Armin's room, and the shutters pulled down over the glass window, the two keepers turned to Armin. The blond stared at them, still reeling under the effects of shock.

'Okay,' he said, trying to keep calm. 'The last time I checked, you two were sworn enemies. What the hell happened? Did the world freeze over while I was sleeping?'

Jean smirked.

'And the last time I checked, twenty-year-olds didn't wear jammies to bed. How old are you, Arlert? Six? Want me to sing you a lullaby to sleep?'

Armin glared, despite his own embarrassment at being caught in his striped pyjamas. 'It was a present from my grandfather, okay, dickhead?' He turned to Eren in disbelief. 'Eren, what the hell were you even doing out with this jerk?' asked Armin, sticking a thumb in Jean's direction.

Eren sighed and gave a garbled reply.

'Uh, sorry, Armin. It's just… a freakishly long story.'

'Does it have something to do with your secret other life that you can't talk about?'

Eren pressed the bridge of his nose and nodded in reluctance.

'I'm sorry, Armin. I really am.'

The saint scowled. His revenge was to lunge at Eren and tousle his hair as payback for waking him up in the middle of the night. And that’s when Armin noticed that there was something very off about the bag on Eren's back.

'Fine. I get it. But what’s in your bag? There’s something wriggling in it.'

Eren looked at his backpack in surprise. And sure enough, it was indeed twitching in restlessness. Eren jabbed his elbow into it, and the bag turned quiet with a whimper.

Armin looked at the lot of them suspiciously until Jean came to the rescue.

'You are imagining things, shortie,' Jean said, slapping Armin on his back and unsettling the blond boy's balance.

'Nuh uh, I did see something move—' Armin persisted but Eren was already moving towards the door.

Having successfully infiltrated their dorm and after checking if the corridor was empty, Eren and Jean thanked the saint and slipped out of Armin's room. They shared an uneasy moment of silence before deciding to part ways. Eren readied himself to leave.

'Jaeger, wait,' he heard Jean call behind him. The ashbrown was looking at him, his features broiled in concern. 'Look, are you seriously going to keep that mutt around? We have protocol, dude, and our code says we need to exterminate anything that crosses the Gates without authorization.'

Eren could hear the soft whine from the interior of the bag. Krobe seemed to have heard the word 'exterminate' and did not take well to it. Eren placed a hand over his bag, attempting to soothe it.

'It's just a dog, Jean. It won't do any harm to anyone. The worst damage I've seen it do— is chew a sweater to shreds. Or piss oil if you really rile it up.'

Kirstein watched him curiously.

'Should I even ask... how you know all that?'

Eren looked away, a shadow crossing his features.

'No, it's best if you don't.'

'You're going against—'

'— the rules. Yeah, I know,' Eren grumbled, wringing the fabric of his t shirt. 'But guess what? I don't really care. There is a reason why the Titans think I am a troublemaker. This must be it. Night, Jean. I hope the bed bugs have a field day on you.'

But the taller man made no effort to leave. He remained standing in the corridor, looking the very picture of guilt. He held out a hand.

'So, I guess this means we are good?' Jean asked, sounding much too confident for Eren's liking.

Eren regarded the offered handshake with caution.

'No, it means we are alright,' Eren said with another shake of his head. 'You can just thank whatever gods you pray to that I'm such a nice, forgiving bastard.'

He’d walked barely five steps when Jean called him again.

'Dammit, horseface. What is it now?' Eren sighed in annoyance.

‘Here. This belongs to you,’ said Jean.

When Eren turned around, he found something lobbed his way. He caught it in his right hand, relieved to see his reflexes kicking in.

Eren stared at the Polaroid before looking up just in time to see Jean disappear around the corner. His new partner was difficult to read at times. Eren turned to the picture again, feeling that familiar surge of heartburn hollow out in his chest. He clenched his fingers tight around the picture and pocketed it in his jeans before resuming the silent trek to his room.

 

 

 

 

  
Eren remembered how everyone had noticed it back then. Long before he ever did.

'A hundred push ups, Jaeger. A hundred,' yelled Keith Shadis from across the training hall.

Sixteen-year-old Eren grumbled under his breath about how the _baldie_ was picking on him on purpose.

'What was that? Did I hear you complain just now?' Shadis roared from the other end.

'Yes— I mean NO SIR!' Eren would stutter in his answer.

Keith Shadis glowered at him before returning to the torture of other PeaceCorp cadets.

'Good. And Freckles make sure he counts each push up,' the trainer would bark before sauntering off.

Marco nodded, wincing on Eren's behalf.

Eren panted as he did the first five of the hundred. While push ups were not extraordinarily hard, but with another man squatting on your back, it was a trial of Titanic proportions. His heart pumped, lungs bled each time he went down.

'Dammit, Marco. How much do you weigh?' Eren wheezed, heaving under the burden.

Marco Bott sounded apologetic when he spoke.

'Sorry, Eren. It wasn't my idea to sit on you. It is the sergeant's orders.'

Eren broke into another round of curses.

'And I'm sure there are other people you'd prefer to have sitting on you,' Marco suggested in that oh-so-calm manner of his.

Eren almost caved when the words and the insinuation finally sank through his thick skull.

'What the hell was that supposed to mean?' the brunet asked, twisting his neck to look at the freckled boy.

Marco merely smiled.

'Just kidding, Jaeger. Just kidding.'

If there was one thing Eren had hated about the PeaceCorp training regime, it was the early morning drills. Of course, Keith Shadis gave them options. It was either fifty laps on the dirt grounds or one hour on the treadmill until your pulse clocked at 200 beats and you could hear it pounding in your chest. Eren noticed that most Titans chose the latter, preferring the air-conditioned gym over the dirt and sweat of the training grounds. Eren (and coincidentally, his Earthborn counterpart, a blonde girl named Annie) almost always chose the outdoors.

Well, as outdoors as it could be in the world of Titan.

Decked in a black tank-top and slacks, he would rub his hands together for a quick warm-up and look around the stadium in anticipation, his muscles as tight and ready as rubber bands.

As soon as Shadis pulled the stopwatch out and said 'go', Eren Jaeger would dash down the course at breakneck speed, his legs carrying him swift through the milestones. The cold air in his face, the tip of his nose freezing and his competitive spirit to keep pace with Annie and try not to be outdone by her… was all that kept the brunet going. It was freedom in its most raw, unadulterated form. Like the wings of freedom, he always found himself pining for. The wings on the back of a certain someone.

More often than Jaeger would like to admit, Annie would beat him to the finish line.

By the time he rounded the corner, his lungs aching for air, Annie would be seated cosily on a foldable chair. She was the picture of perfection, the queen of combat. Almost like a machine herself. Legs crossed at the knees, she would sip on her energy drink. When he finally made it to the rope, she'd raise a hand in mock greeting and even blow a raspberry at Eren to mock him.

On the few rare occasions when he found himself in the lead, Eren never converted them to wins. Because in his short-lived exhilaration, he would catch sight of a person sitting on the bleachers, who would be watching his progress in broodiness.

It was that guardian of his.

Jaeger would try to ignore those dark, insomniac eyes. He would try to put his all into the remaining laps. But when he turned the corners and returned for the next lap, the man would be still sitting there and still watching him with a fervour that unnerved him. And there was the desperate urge in Eren again to turn and meet that burning, magnetic gaze eye to eye.

Eren gave in to that impulse at the third lap.

And as he looked at the man, he felt his own pace diminish. Eren knew he was losing precious seconds on the clock but he made a sign, putting his arms together in a cross.

'Stop that,' he mouthed.

His guardian would continue staring indifferently at him, a small puzzled shadow stealing through his poker face.

'Stop what?' Levi would ask.

Eren would be almost past the bleachers when he made a last ditch effort to get the message across. He would point the man's attention to the exit of the grounds.

'Go,' Eren mimed. 'You're distracting me.'

Levi's gaze would narrow.

'And since when do I take orders from you, shithead?' the expression seemed to speak in exchange.

Eren would fold his hands in prayer.

'Lieutenant, please,' he'd try politely the second time.

Of course, Levi wouldn't leave and continue watching him. The distraction was all that Annie would need to close the gap between them, leave him in the dust of her ridiculous sprint and beat him by a mile.

When Eren arrived at the finish line, there would be the blonde sipping on her sports drink with a towel hanging around her neck. All with that grating suaveness in her expression. There would also be Shadis calling Eren a dunderhead, an attention deficit idiot and a bunch of other unkind names.

And yet all Eren would do was cast a long look at the bleachers and search for the familiar figure of someone.

It felt like Eren was always chasing them.

Those wings of freedom on the man's back.

Eren would slump down on the dirt, lie down on his back and stare at the bleak sky of Titan. He remembered a story he'd read as a child. Of a Greek runner by the name of Atlanta. The maiden challenged all her suitors to a race and being the fastest mortal, she never lost to any of them. Not until a poor chap Hippomenes fell head over heels in love with her and made her lose the race by tossing apples her way.

Eren was no Atlanta.

Nor was Annie Leonhart a Hippomenes.

But Levi was indeed the apple that seduced a mortal runner.

The same apple that perhaps Satan lured Eve to bite out of. The same fruit that was taming and stroking the bloodlust and flame inside Eren. How the hell did he get himself into this kind of a twisted situation?

Eren Jaeger, aged sixteen, realized he was in love, a fierce love that may go unrequited like a Greek tragedy. It was a love that was risqué, unconditional and would possibly come crashing down on him later. That strange feeling had already blurred the lines of friendship, reverence and hero worship. But it was still love and try as he might, he could not ignore the heart thundering in his chest and his temples.

 

  
_He saw, admir'd and thus his spotless frame_

_He prais'd, and praising, kindled his own flame._

_Ovid, Metamorphosis._

 

 

Now in college, eight years gone by, the young man stroked the metal head of the dog in his arms. His attention wavered to the half-moon that hovered in the sky outside. The droid in the huddle of arms gave a low, satisfied whine and tried to find a warm spot on Eren's stomach to settle in.

'Say. Did he kick you out too?' Eren asked the machine dog, a bitter smile making its way across his lips.

There was no answer.

Eren sat by the window in his room while Krobe pretended to sleep in his lap. He looked at the wrist watch in his hand. Gale's messenger lights were gleaming in a sequence of green.

An incoming message...?

The coded message was from Hanji, her ordinarily enthusiastic voice sounded clipped and urgent.

She called to keep him informed, she said. He could hear her driving, her vehicle speeding through traffic on the other side.

Hanji Zoe had just six words for him.

Levi missing. Don't panic. Search on.

And that was it.

Eren brought his right hand to his mouth. He’d removed the bandages and was grateful for the sensations that returned to him. Now, he bit sharp into the skin, trying to remember and trying to forget. He felt the slight tremble in his veins.

Why did he always find himself chasing?

Those wings of freedom on that one man's back.

So unfair.

He drew the Polaroid out and stared hard at the shorter man in the picture. Eren ran a finger over the raven hair, the face whose outline he knew so well he could draw it blindfolded and that faint smile on those thin lips.

Levi was never known to play fair in love and war.

Well, neither was Eren.

 

 

* * *

 

 


	33. Friends and Foes

 

 

Chapter-33- Friends and Foes

~.~

 

He was sitting in his Advanced Mechanics class, not really paying attention to the lesson. The lecturer changed slides and droned on Quantum Theory in that quintessential French accent of his. Another law. Another equation. Another number to be put away in his head. And yet, Eren couldn't really keep up. His own frustration ebbed away underneath his skin. There was the cynical side of Eren Jaeger that told him to forget the news Hanji had conveyed last night. It wasn't supposed to concern him. He had cut those ties after all. He ought to pretend he'd never even met the man, never fallen in love, never got hitched and forget he was ever betrayed by the one person he had trusted his life with. Because like Levi had said, there was never any 'us' to begin with. Lies, lies, chock full and bucket load of lies.

_Search on._

If it had been the Corporal's intention to disappear, Eren doubted anybody could find him. Eren knew Rivaille like the glove of his hand. Because even if the jerk had said that the last eight years had meant nothing to him, they had meant something to Eren, and the boy had spent those years trying to discern and love all the nuances that made Levi... so glaringly Levi. Rivaille was attentive to the smallest of details, meticulous and exact in all his deliberations. If he really wanted to disappear, the Corporal would make sure no one ever found him. Not that Eren cared. The man could get swallowed by a black hole and Eren would be cool with it. He was done chasing. No more of prostrating himself at the feet of that two-faced jerk, Eren convinced himself. He was done, _so_ done. 

_Don't panic._

That sounded oddly like one of those hitchhiker memes he'd seen around campus. 'Don't Panic and Carry a Towel,' being the sign on the men's shower room outside Sylvan's basketball court. Eren dug his ballpoint pen into the paper, deep enough to cut into the next page. Concentrate on the class, he chided himself. He could feel the strain on his right arm, a tiny wave of pain that burgeoned in his wrist and traveled up to his elbow. He rolled away the sleeve of his blue slim fit jacket, exposing the skin of his recuperating arm; he stared at the bite mark from last night when his anxiety reached a peak. His old tics were raising their ugly head again, he knew.  _Don't panic..._  Eren suppressed a scoff. Panic? Who was panicking? No, not Eren. He was good, he was absolutely fine, he reminded himself through clenched teeth. What did it matter if... if that guy...

Eren pressed his right hand over his eyes, blocking the painful thought.

_Levi missing._

Eren ran a hand through his hair, unconsciously pulling at the brown strands at the base of his neck. He bit the corner of his lips in dismay.

He was aware of Armin watching him struggle.

_Levi missing._

What did missing even mean? How does a quasi Napolean at five foot something with that larger than life personality of his go MIA and disappear out of the blue? Without anyone knowing. Not even the members of his handpicked squad. Not even his trusted comrades. Not even... Eren.

Eren gave a bitter laugh.

Of course, he was out of the picture anyway. Why would Levi tell him anything? For years, Rivaille Levi had been playing the guise of being his guardian without putting out all his cards. All those years he spent watching over Eren were all an experimental study. He had just been selling Eren out to the Titan State. One bit at a time.

Eren hated to think just how much of an experiment he'd really been to that poker face. Because what was Eren if not just a fucking Earthborn to use and throw? Had Levi's affection been for him or the stupid key Eren's father left him? Why would Levi even regard him with an ounce of respect, dignity and love that Eren thought he deserved?

Amidst all this inner turmoil, the universe decided to lambast Eren by taking cheap shots at him.

The first paper ball that hit his head turned out to be the mildest. A precursor for the storm to come. It had come from the back rows, bounced off the side of his head and landed between him and Armin. The professor was busy changing slides, he never noticed it.

Eren caught the ball of paper and opened it.

It was brief and mockingly childish.

  
_RIVAILLE and FAEGER sitting in a tree._

_K.I.S.S.I.N.G._

  
Eren crumpled it up in his fist. And going against Armin's advice, he threw the note back in the direction it'd come from. He heard the snickers behind him. The mob was delighted that he intended to fight back. Of course, retaliation was never a solution to bullying, and it only served to spur them on.

The second was an eraser. It came flying to hit him square on the back of his head and dropped into his seat. Eren caught it in his hand and pocketed it coolly. He had needed an eraser anyway. Since Krobe hated being cooped up in his dorm room and was making a chew toy out of Eren's things. Including his stationary.

The third was another note. Or rather a question.

  
_How do you guys do it? 69? Missionary? Doggie Style?_

  
Eren borrowed Armin's ballpoint and penned down his answer.

  
_Everything in the book, you fuckers. Everything in the goddam book._

_Yours, Eren_

He scrunched up the paper into a ball and threw it back, flipping his middle finger in air at the giggling idiots in the back rows.

The next one was the most insulting.

_We've got a bet on._

_Top? Bottom?_

_PS: Please say bottom, Jaeger._

  
'Eren. You have to _stop_ ,' Armin insisted, shaking his head furiously. 'You're only making it worse.'

Eren gave a low growl, balled the note up again and this time, he tossed it at Jean, who was sitting at the edge of the amphitheater classroom. Eren relished in the way the missile bounced off the ashbrown's head. Jean turned to give him the stink eye. _What the hell was that for,_ Jean mouthed at him while reading the message in the note.

Eren huffed and turned his attention back to his papers again. It was a miracle the professor hadn't caught on to the riot yet.

An origami paper plane happened to land next on his desk, skidding to a stop beside Armin's elbow.

The blond tried to take it away, but Eren lunged for it in time.

This one was a quote from Shakespeare.

 

_Bless thee, Bottom. Bless thee. Thou art translated._

 

Eren slammed his hands on the surface of the desk and he stood up, stunning everyone. Turning around, he gave the back benchers a feral, manic smile.

'Are you kidding me? I have topped more times than you guys could ever get laid in a lifetime. Next time you're jerking yourself off on your fingers, dwell on that, you creeps!'

His outburst resulted in a heavy silence. Everyone in the amphitheater stared at him in the uncanny mix of awe and disgust. Armin facepalmed himself, sinking deeper into his seat. Eren was aware of the professor slamming his book shut. The man with the goatee took off his glasses.

' _J'ai le regret de vous informer_. But you're not topping my class, Mr Jaeger. Can I ask you to leave?'

He stared at the man in disbelief.

'But professor, they started it—'

'Mr Jaeger, I asked you to leave!'

Eren picked up his backpack in a fit of fury, hurled it over a shoulder and did as he was told. Armin gave a heavy sigh and caught hold of his sleeve. _Eren, just apologize to the man and be done with it_ , the blond pleaded with him. But no, Eren was done apologizing. He freed himself from Armin's hold and stalked down the aisle, scowling at everyone in the room.

The brunet passed Jean's desk, glaring daggers at the taller man.

'This is all _your_ fault, horseface. You better fix this,' he told Jean before walking out of the classroom.

 

 

 

 

It was a small bedroom in a rundown inn of Maria with blue paint peeling off from the walls. The windows were boarded up, and there was a cistern smell in the air, curiously mixed with the scent of eucalyptus. Even in his foggy consciousness, he was aware of the missing Helumbary, the missing welcome bark from Krobe and the absence of mischievous, lanky arms eager to wrap around him. But there was freedom here instead. A freedom that was hard to place among the shades of white and black.

Levi opened one narrow eye, trying to get his bearings together. He grimaced at the filth and disarray of this strange but homely place. Everything about the room looked patched up from the gingham curtains to the creaking floorboards. In the balcony, there were two broken pots- a cactus and a thorny shrub were struggling to grow inside the ceramic. The false ceiling had cobwebs in the corners. Clean, must clean, was the silent urge in his head. But Levi felt numb.

Someone peered over him.

A woman with red hair plaited around one shoulder. She wore a long apron and was chewing on a pencil in her mouth. He almost didn't recognize her because of her baby bump and the absence of her pig tails.

Isabel.

Isabel Magnolia.

Or Izzie like they used to call her when she was younger.

Her green eyes were lit up in concern. Green, he mused in silence. Green like… so many things he didn't want to remember right now.

Izzie said something. When he didn't hear her, she leaned forward to whisper.

'Welcome home, _hermano_ ,' she greeted brightly. She sounded peachy just like Petra. 'It's been such a long time. How are you feeling?'

There was a furrow in the man's thin eyebrows. Levi raised a finger, motioning for Isabel to put her ear to his mouth. She did as was asked.

 _Like crap,_ he whispered into her ear.

The redhead smiled brightly and gave a bark of amused laughter. 'You shall reap what you sow. Farlan told me about the stunt you pulled,' her expression changed, turning sullen. 'If you want to live among us, never ever try that again.'

His narrow gaze softened.

 _Point taken. And you look like a fat cow_ , he whispered back, wheezing with every word.

That comment seemed to vex her. 'For goodness sake, I'm carrying a child. What else do you expect, you insensitive prick?' she said, shaking a finger in his face. 'You are blunt as ever. That part about you hasn't changed at all.'

Levi gave a small smile and a curt nod in understanding.

Isabel shook her head, still peeved. She glanced down at her plump figure and scowled at it. 'If someday, you like a woman enough to father her child, pray don't tell her she looks like a cow. Doesn't help with the self-esteem, you know.'

There was that awkward moment in their conversation. Levi didn't know what he ought to reply and thankfully, he was saved the trouble. For there was a chuckle from the other end of the room. Farlan's head emerged out of his cloak's hood. He had been sitting in the shadows of the boarded-up window, half-submerged in the darkness itself. He met Isabel's green eyes with mischief in his own.

'Oh, I never told you, Izzie? Levi… doesn't swing that way. Or should I say, our leader takes a remarkable interest in young, angry, Earthborn males—'

 _Church,_ hissed Levi in warning. _One more word, and I swear I will_ —

Farlan put up his hands in defeat but drew back into his wreath of shadows, still laughing at his joke.

Isabel watched Levi with a new light in her green eyes.

'And here I thought you were asexual, Levi. So, where is this lucky man who could melt even your cold, frigid heart?' she said, clearly amused.

Levi shrugged.

 _Home,_ the grey eyed man muttered, feeling drowsy under the weight of drugs. _Where the brat belongs._

His eyelids felt heavy.

He heard Isabel shuffle near him and soon, Levi felt a warm, wet rag on his forehead.

'You're tired. Sleep, _hermano_. You will need it,' Izzie told him; running her fingers through his sweaty, raven hair. 'And thank you for coming back.'

Levi nodded, and his breathing evened out as he drifted back to drug induced slumber.

There was a loud knock on the tavern door below, and Isabel heard the sharp intake of breath from the man in the shadows. Church looked agitated, his hand moving to the gun at his holster. Isabel shook her head stoutly in refusal. No, not here. There shall be no violence under my roof.

Farlan made a face of displeasure. 'I should have smashed his Gale connection sooner,' Church said, pointing to the ruins of a pocket watch on the bedside table. 'It was a mistake on my part.'

'You’re being paranoid. I'll go check the front door, Farlan,' Isabel tried to placate him. 'Relax... I'm sure it's just one of us,' the woman told him, though her nerves were jittery as well.

She closed the door to the spare bedroom and walked down the stairs gingerly. At the foot of the stairwell, she gave the go-ahead sign to Magnum who stood waiting by the door. Her lover yanked open the door, and they found a man in full uniform of the Trost Military Police standing on the steps. There was an armed android next to him, silently waiting instructions. Intimidating with its spotless, smooth varnish of metal, it surveyed them and was probably running background checks on the couple.

With his cruiser parked on the front road, the man and his humanoid companion stuck out like a sore thumb in the otherwise rundown neighbourhood of the inn.

'Military Police,' the man said for an introduction, not bothering with his name. 'There was an accident near here. I'm doing routine inquiries. Know anythin' about it?'

Magnum gave a laugh.

'Accidents are always happening in Maria, officer. Why would the State care about this one?'

The soldier scowled and brought up a small totem pole. He flicked a switch on it and a 3D projection appeared. It was a profile of the man they'd rescued days earlier, the same man who was recuperating in the bedroom upstairs, but that of course was supposed to be a heavily guarded secret. The soldier read out the details of the man. 'Deceased was a PeaceCorp. Head of Special Operations Squad. Lance Corporal Rivaille Levi. Know anythin' about him?'

Magnum shook his head.

'Think well before you answer. Don't be hasty, son.'

Magnum shook his head a second time, an impish smile coming over him.

The soldier gave a 'tch' and signalled to the android beside him. The armed droid struck its arm out without warning and slammed Magnum into the door frame. The young man doubled over from the pain but didn't resist against the assault. One never resisted the Titan Army. Not in the open. He gave a warning glance towards Isabel. Go, he urged her. Warn them.

Izzie stood her ground, staring wide eyed at the door. Her attention wavered between the droid and the soldier. Who was the greater enemy here, Isabel panicked.

'By Ness, I hate dealing with the scum of Maria,' grumbled the soldier, looking around the inn scornfully. He turned to Isabel.

'Step aside, harlot. I need to check the rooms.'

Izzie snarled.

'We already told you… we know nothing. And there is no one here. '

The soldier scoffed.

'And yet, Gale reported our target's last presence to be somewhere around here. Are you telling me you are smarter than our intelligence network, redhead?'

Isabel caught the look of warning from Magnum. 'Go,' he urged her wordlessly.

She shook her head, standing her ground.

'There is no one else here, officer, except for amante and me. Can't keep up business with your people threatening our guests all the time.'

'Pfft. I'll repeat one last time, girlie. Step aside. I want to check the upper landing.'

'And I am telling you! It's a mistake.'

'I SAID step aside, whore!'

But Isabel wouldn't budge.

The soldier shoved her against the railing of the staircase and kicked her in the knees, making her come buckling down. The man smirked as he watched Isabel blink back tears of pain. She wringed her hands into her apron's fabric, her palms resting on the unborn child.

The soldier smirked. 'I could do so much worse, harlot. To that thing inside you. Why do you scum bother with procreation when the end is nigh? You fuckers keep complaining about there not being enough food but you bring it upon yourselves, you scum.’

Isabel watched helplessly as the man began climbing the stairs.

No, she couldn't risk losing hermano. Not when he was finally back. She pulled out the pencil from the pockets of her apron and ascended the stairs after him. One strike. That was all she needed. A jab into his neck. But the man had bristled past the locked doors, and already arrived at Levi's room, with his hand resting on the knob.

He turned the rusty knob, and the door fell open without resistance.

The soldier entered in a beat.

Isabel raised the pencil in her hand, wondering if she should stab the man's eye out first.

She was saved the trouble.

Because the soldier looked around and made a low sound of discontent.

And she understood why.

The room was empty.

Deserted.

The man from the Trost Military Police gave a hard look around the empty space.

'Well, what do you know… no one here. Guess Gale screwed up again.'

Izzie quickly buried the pencil in her apron again, before the man caught sight of her holding it.

'I told you, didn't I? ' the redhead mumbled, hiding her own surprise. There was not a trace of the IV drip, the head compress or the blood-soaked bandages. The bed was empty and so was the chair leaning against the boarded window. Her green eyes shifted to the balcony where the curtains fluttered with the cold breeze of Titan's desert land.

Isabel understood and was relieved.

The man in the colours of the Military Police rummaged through his pockets. He brought the totem pole out again and flicked on the projection of Levi's profile. 'D. E. Lawrence reporting. Body charred beyond recognition on crash site,' he quietly observed. 'Ammunition and personal belongings identified. Fingerprints match. Last trace of deceased’s router could not be determined. Levi, Rivaille— Status change. Deceased,' the man closed the log and dropped the object back into his pocket.

He gave Isabel a condescending look.

'Titan Prevails. Good day, harlot.'

 

 

 

 

The clock struck nine in the blue green world of Earth. Jean Kirstein walked into the crowded dining hall of Sylvan University. He was going to do something unusual that night, something he'd never ever done before. On hindsight, this last week was turning out to be a whole week of firsts for him. The first time he'd tried to help someone by volunteering as a scribe. The first time he’d stalked someone. The first time he found himself sneaking around the dorms as if he were returning from a late night party. The first time he let a Titan droid go without annihilating it to wire and metal. Again, all for that someone.

T'was the season of firsts.

And tonight, there was going to be another first. Instead of joining his usual gang of the influential and the cool folks, he chose to go to their table. The table of the dorks.

Eren Jaeger was digging a spoon into his apple pudding half-heartedly, his one hand groping the empty space around his collarbone often. The nerd was reading again, and Armin looked over his shoulder every minute as if he expected an avalanche of paper balls to hit them at any time. Connie Springer and Sasha Blouse were placing bets on what was to appear on tomorrow's lunch menu.

Jean did not sit down with these weirdoes.

Instead, he caught Connie's arm and gave Sasha an apologetic smile.

'Sorry, Sasha. But can I borrow your boyfriend? I gotta do something.'

'Oh, hey Jean. Gotta do what?' Connie echoed, puzzled.

Jean smirked.

'This,' he said for an answer, grabbing hold of the baldhead's chin and drew him inward. Connie was like a deer caught in headlights as Jean proceeded to plant a wet, sloppy kiss on the boy's lips. Jean kissed the poor chap hard and obscenely loud. And he made sure every soul sitting in that giant dining hall could see and hear every bit of that malicious lip lock.

  
‘EWW!' Connie roared, pushing him away when he felt Jean's tongue slip in. 'What the hell, Kirstein! Ewww! Gross!' the shorter boy blurted out, grabbing his throat and gagging in reflex.

A silence hung in the air.

Everyone was watching the table of the dorks.

Jean wiped the saliva from his own lips and turned to Eren.

'I hope that makes it even now,' said Jean grimly. He gave a carefree shrug before sauntering off, leaving an astounded audience in his wake.

'Wh—What the hell happened just now?' Eren asked the blond sitting beside him.

Armin gave an involuntary shudder and turned his attention back to his book.

'Jean _effing_ Kirstein, buddy. That's what happened,' the saint noted sagely.

 

* * *

 


	34. Friday Night Blues

 

 

Chapter-34- Friday Night Blues

~.~

 

 

Carla Jaeger was sitting with her back resting against the headboard. There was a lady in the next room, sobbing pitifully; the techs said she was suffering from bipolar. Carla wondered if she should talk to the woman tomorrow, give the woman some company, make her feel better somehow. Immersed in her impressions of other residents, Carla was watching the hospital grounds outside her window when she heard a sound pierce the silence. Something hit the wall, scraped it and soon, there was a shadow where the moon ought to be. The woman turned afraid... wondering if the dark shapes of her mind were manifesting in the real world again. Were the meds not working? Was she having a relapse? She grabbed her covers and wrapped them around herself in fright. But then… tan, lean fingers clasped the window-sill, curling around the edges, and Carla Jaeger was relieved to find her son climbing through the opening.

'Eren...?' she said aghast.

Her son dusted himself, dropped his backpack to the ground and straightened up. Giving her one of those cheerful, dopey smiles of his, Eren padded over to her bedside. He bent to kiss her on the crown of her forehead and sat down on the mattress, next to her elbow.

Eren nodded, beaming at her.

'Of course, it's me. Took the shortcut. Did I scare you?' he asked, sounding a little worried.

Eren was wearing a slim blue shirt and chinos that looked wonderful on him; there was also a green parka strewn carelessly over one shoulder. The bandages of his right arm were gone, and Carla was relieved to see him whole again. But the recovery was only skin deep. There was still that lingering sorrow in his eyes, submerged deep in ocean green, and Eren tried hard to keep that under wraps. But Carla could see it. Because she was a mother and mothers were good at sieving through the false masks of their children and at discovering the hurt inside. There had been a time, when she would have told him a bedtime story to soothe the pain. But he wasn’t a child anymore. Watching him against the moon, Carla was quietly astonished at how much he had really grown up. Without his parents even. She caught his handsome face in her hands and nuzzled his cheek, happy to see her only offspring despite the late hour.

'Yes, you did, you _punk!_  You gave me an awful fright,' she whispered.

'Sorry,' Eren rued in apology and pointed to the clock on the wall, where the short hand showed eight. 'Visitation hours are over. And that crazy nurse Robbins threatened to get a restraining order if I showed up again. Swear to God, that old hag hates me on sight.'

Carla looked at the open window of her room, and her expression furrowed. 'Eren, how did you even get up here? We’re on the second floor—'

But her son pressed a finger to her lips and shook his head. Don't ask for details, mum, his expression seemed to plead. Carla didn't like it. How Eren was always keeping secrets. Just like his father used to. It gave her a foreboding sense of ill.

She pulled back, letting her eyes graze over him, examining him in the silence. With a sigh, she decided against pursuing the subject.

'What are you even doing here?'

Here, Eren’s face lit up, and he grinned wide.

'Just wanted to drop by and say hi,' Eren confessed, his gaze moved to the grey sweater that lay on the bedside table. 'Whoa… Is that for me? Looks like you're almost done with it.'

Carla smiled, swatting his hand away when he tried to reach for it.

'No, not yet,’ she insisted. ‘Patience, Eren.'

 

 

 

 

 

'Hey Jaegermeister.'

'Yeah, horseface?'

'It's a Friday Night.'

'Thanks for stating the obvious, Kirstein. So?'

'We're at the movies.'

'Uh huh.'

'Just you and me. Isn't that kind of... pathetic?'

Eren turned to direct a sharp look at the boy— Jean Kirstein, his partner-in-crime _and_ peacekeeping evidently. There was a teasing mirth in Eren's reply.

'Feel free to hit on any ladies who catch your fancy, Jean. I'm not going to stop you,’ the peacekeeper offered magnanimously before breaking into a shit-eating grin. ‘Or if you feel like smooching Connie again, I can call him over, and you guys can pick up right where you left off—'

Jean flicked the side of the brown head, who was grinning wide and far. Glowering in the silence, the ashbrown crossed his arms and leaned back against the movie corridor. He watched the low hanging, romantic lights, his feet unconsciously tapping to the soft jazz playing from the speakers. Jean ran a hand through his hair, frizzing it in the frustration of all this waiting. They were in the middle of a stakeout operation in the lounge of Mardis Theatre, unnoticed by the roving crowd of moviegoers around them. Some hovered before bright-lit posters: making plans, gushing over their favourite actors and even gossiped about that 'cutie' in the ticket line.

Darn it!

He could have been that 'cutie', Jean griped.

Just how much of normalcy did he need to sacrifice in this line of duty?

He scratched his nose and passed a glance at the brunet next to him. Both had their green parka on. He wondered what the civilians thought when they saw the PeaceCorp emblem. What did the Wings of Freedom mean to the common bystander? Logo of a varsity, a baseball team or a Guerrilla Che fad? What did people think when they saw two guys at the movies, waiting out in the shadows alone, murmuring between themselves.

From the nasty look Jean received from one of the theatre's concierges, he had an inkling of what that might be. He assumed it would be the same thought running through the brilliant minds of Sylvan University tomorrow. _Ladies and gentlemen, Jean Kirstein has fallen,_ he imagined the cry going around. _Alas, the boy has fallen to the side of booties; he’s no longer yours to charm, ladies; it was a sordid affair, taboo and whatnot, and for his immense sacrifice, we bid our soldier a tearful farewell._

Jean cleared his throat, turning sullen at his colorful narratives. 

'You do realise I pulled the stunt with Connie to get the homophobes off your back,' he pointed out.

Eren cocked up an eyebrow and growled under his breath.

'Oh yeah? And whose fault was it in the first place?' the brunet contested hotly.

The implication was clear, and Jean could feel the conversation going downhill from there. Granted, Jaeger had a point. Sure, it had been Jean’s prank that fireballed into this shitstorm for the boy. But a little appreciation wouldn’t hurt, would it?

There was a long pause before Eren seemed to reconsider. He shook his head and with much effort, decided to acknowledge Jean.

'Fine,’ he relented. ‘You did what you could… Thanks for that.'

To be honest, Jean didn’t really expect to be thanked for it.

‘s cool. Don't mention it.'

Eren, of course, had more to say.

'But if you still have the hots for Connie, I can—'

'Dammit, Jaeger,' Jean  groaned.

Yet Eren was beside him, snickering all the way through. 

‘C’mon, Kirstein. It's not so bad; come to the dark side already,' he teased. 'You know you _want_ to!’

‘Shut up, you little dipshit.’

Eren grinned at him again.

The crowd were ushered in through the matinee doors for the 9 PM show, leaving the two of them alone in the hallway. The theatre went silent and gloomy, until the tension in their backs slowly eased away. 

Jean turned to his partner and noticed for the first time just how tired Eren looked. Despite the barrage of quick wit and comebacks, Eren was clearly finding it difficult to stay awake on this mission. The brunet blinked a few times, his shoulders going slack, and before long, he was dozing off, with his head drooping to his chest. A much-aggravated Jean caught the collar to Eren’s hood and straightened the boy, going so far as to shake him awake. _Hey you. Don't nap on duty,_ Jean cautioned his partner. Eren pressed a hand over his groggy eyes and grimaced. 'Sorry about that,' he uttered sheepishly. 'I haven't... slept for the last couple of nights. It's taking a toll. So, what were we talking about again?'

Jean rolled his eyes.

'I was telling you how pathetic the life of a PeaceCorp is. And you were offering to buy me a drink in consolation.'

Eren looked up, frowning at him.

'I'm pretty sure you made that up.'

Jean's face broke into a wicked smile but he didn't refute it.

There was a lull in their banter. Eren took to staring at the polished tiles under their feet while Jean was left watching the new crowd bustle in: an eclectic mix of teenagers, young folks and couples. God, he hated normal folks. Jean hated the fact that he wasn't one of them. He seemed to spend all his life questioning the choices of yesterday. Like why did he have that burrito for dinner, knowing well he was going to regret the outcome?

Jean Kirstein turned to give his partner a searching glance.

What worried Eren, he was curious to know. What was Eren Jaeger's most heinous secret? 

He had an inkling on what it might be.

'Hey Eren.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Tell me something. Who was he? That other guy in the picture?' Jean asked, keeping his voice falsely casual.

It was a question that had been eating him away for days now. Ever since he saw the Polaroid.

Eren stiffened at the question. His eyes danced, and the confidence that had been there moments ago evaporated.

'No one,' came his curt reply.

Jean snorted and gave the boy an incredulous look.

'Do you seriously expect me to believe that?'

Jean watched the side of Eren's face, scanning him for clues. The brunet looked pained now, burying his hands into the pockets of his chino defensively.

'Jean,’ he began. ‘Can you just drop it?' There was something else in Eren's expression, a hunted look and also a  desperation to bury the past.

Jean clicked his tongue, raising the bait.

'Oh, you liked him _that_ much, huh? So, what happened? You guys broke up... or something?'

There was a heavy silence again as if the unsaid weight of Eren Jaeger's secrets were pulling him down with it.

'Like,' Eren echoed in a wistful manner and scoffed at Jean's choice of wording. 'Top, bottom, 69, missionary, doggie, Faeger... People are always giving names to my relationship. Anything to make it sound rotten,' Eren said, his voice rising to a dangerous treble. The boy struggled to check his emotions. He curled his fingers into fists and buried them under the elbows of his crossed arms. 'But people don’t know, do they? Words can't describe what we had.'

Jean's hazel eyes flickered to his partner. _This_ was the closest Eren had come to spilling the beans, and Jean, overcome by curiosity, urged the boy on thoughtlessly. 'And what was that?' the ashbrown asked.

'Trust,' Eren replied, holding up his right hand and looking forlorn at the fingers. Particularly, at one finger. The ring finger was void of its silver band and ever since the feeling of sense and touch had returned to that right arm of his, Eren found himself twisting the impressions of the missing ring.

'Trust?' Jean prodded.

'Yeah. Trust. Vows. _Home._  That's what we had. And that guy... he broke all of it.'

Eren turned to glance at the next wave of movie goers, envying their carefree lives. At Jean's silence, he turned back to the ashbrown and caught the lost look on Jean's face.

He gave a long sigh that mingled with the noise of the crowd.

‘I married him,' Eren finally confessed. He didn't stop to catch the shocked expression on Kirstein's face. 'Yeah. Like the impulsive idiot that I am, I did. Because I trusted him, and I thought we could make this work. It didn't matter to me if we were from different worlds. It didn't matter if he was a Titan, a _guy,_ an older man, someone who believed ruthlessly in discipline and the fucking order of the universe while I was a mess, a raging beast, and... maybe even an annoying brat to him. But you know something,’ Eren turned sober and swallowed the knot in his throat.  

‘He’s always watched over me. He's saved me so many times I've lost count. I don't know if it was out of love or his sense of duty. All I know is... Levi was home. _Always,’_ he mumbled, breathing in deep. ‘He gave me a home when everything else in my life was falling apart. It didn't matter that I couldn't do all the normal, fun stuff people get to do on this side. Like go to a movie, a dinner date, a drive under the stars. Or even just hold hands with him,' Eren held up his hands, gave them a lost look and dropped them, his green eyes tracing his shoe laces next in embarrassment. 'Heck, there were so many things I wanted to show him right here. All our oceans, mountains, the rain, the forests. Even a goddam real dog. Levi has never seen any of it. He... yeah, that asshole promised me he would. Hell, every time I returned to this world, I worried if I'd see the jerk's face again. I didn't know if I'd live with myself if something... if _anything_ were to happen to him when I’m not there by his side.'

Eren paused, his voice having broken after that long rambling monologue.

Jean saw him rub his nose against a sleeve.

But Eren wasn't done. Not even close.

'Those bastards in class... They ask me if I was doing him in those six months I spent away. Yeah, sure I _did_ him,' Eren admitted with a sardonic chuckle. His laugh sounded coarse and vindictive. 'But that's not the reason I went back, you know. That's not the reason I decided to become a soldier. I carried the worlds, so I could make sure my home was safe and sound. So that... _he_ was safe and sound,' Eren blew out a harsh breath and shook his head furiously. 'You asked me if I liked him, Jean? Well, there's your answer. Call it whatever name you want to, but I can't go back home anymore,' Eren stuck out a fist and slammed it into the wall. 'Fuck, after all that, I can't even hate him. He did lie to me; he did sell me out to the State, and he _did_ break my heart. But he also lied about the fact that he didn't believe in us. And you've got no idea how much I _hate_ myself for believing and leaving him behind.'

Soon, there were the tears again, making their wily comeback.

Eren pressed a hand over his face, hiding the freefall of tears. He sobbed into the quiet hallway, and tried to stifle the flood of emotions, feeling vulnerable before that childhood rival of his. Of all the people to break through his defenses, why did it have to be Jean? 

Odd enough, Jean didn't make fun of him. The ashbrown looked uncomfortable in his own turn and looked away, giving Eren his moment of privacy. He even went so far as to flick a baseball cap off a passing kid. The brat didn't notice the airlift, and Jean tucked the cap on Eren's head neatly, lowering the flap over the brunet's eyes.

Eren froze in surprise.

But he was grateful nonetheless.

'Thanks,' the brunet mumbled.

'Yeah, don't thank me. I'm not doing it for _you_. You just look ugly when you cry, suicidal bastard.'

Eren sniffled.

'… right.'

And yet, the brunet thanked him again.

A long moment passed before Jean cleared his throat awkwardly and tried to change the subject.

'So, is something going to breach the gateway or not? I'm getting restless here. What were our orders again?'

Eren took off the baseball cap and stuffed it into his pocket. His eyes were still wet, but he pressed the oblique button on his comm.. and replayed the message. Gale's voice rang out to them.

'Check gateway point 42. Mardis Theatre. Transgressions observed on 14th and 16th between eleven pm and two am. Suspected to be a base model of INXbot series.'

'INXbot? The sexdroids?' Jean asked, sounding fascinated and maybe even hopeful.

Eren shook his head.

'No, that's INSbot. These are harmless aerial scavengers. It could even be an aberrant gone haywire.'

The peacekeepers settled into a mellow silence. It didn't last long, because their wrist watches beeped at the same time.

Eren and Jean exchanged knowing looks.

'I guess our movie date is finally here,' said Eren, brushing his face into his shirt and wiped away the wet trails from his cheeks.

 

 

 

 

 

Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirstein prided themselves in being adept keepers, the best of their own divisions (not really) but they ran into their first hurdle sooner than they'd have liked. They could have taken on an INXbot, even a INSbot, or an armoured Titan together. But the invader of Gateway 42 had concealed itself in the one place these two young men couldn't get in. Or any guy, as a matter of fact.

The Ladies Room.

'Bummer. You sure it's inside?' Jean asked Eren, who was running coordinates on Gale.

The brunet nodded, his familiar spirit returning. 'Positive. And stop breathing down on me.'

Jean was cross.

'That fucking voyeur. What the hell is it doing in the ladies room? Taking a piss? Couldn't it pick a movie to watch or something?' Jean sighed and snapped his fingers. 'Okay, here's the deal, Jaeger,' the taller man announced, his manner all seriousness and business-like. 'You need to get in there pronto and do your duty. Prove to your motherland what a good soldier you are. I'll, uh— cheer you from out here.'

Eren gave him a dirty look. 'So not happening. If you haven't noticed, horseface, I'm not a girl. Nor do I have a spare vagina.'

'Someone's gotta do it.'

'Not gonna be me.'

And so, the two PeaceCorps waited out in the lobby, arguing over who looked better in a dress and a wig. After the lapse of twenty minutes and since the INXbot did not seem to be emerging out of its den and no women seemed to be lurking inside either, the two keepers decided to hazard their chances and entered the bathroom together.

The toilets were empty... which was a mixed blessing. There were no women hovering before the mirrors and talking shit behind each other's back. The bad news? There didn't seem to be any Titan invaders either.

'What the hell,' Jean cursed under his breath while Eren glared at a loose roll of tissue paper hanging out from a stall. To make matters worse, they heard a noise. Not the whirr of a droid machine, but something more sinister that sent the boys into panic.

It was the giggle of a herd of women, and it was fast approaching.

'Oh shit,' said Jean, eloquent as always. He caught Eren's sleeve and pulled the two of them into the last cubicle in a mad rush. And it was right in the nick of time for they heard the door swing open. Feet shuffled into the room, the sound of stilettos and screeching laughter filled the air while the two PeaceCorps stood huddled in a space clearly not meant for two.

'Your breath stinks,' Eren whispered.

'I don't think that's me. And quiet, the banshees might hear us.'

Eren grinned despite their awkward situation. The two stood facing each other, keeping one knee bent on the cubicle wall so no one got suspicious over the two pairs of feet visible below the door flap.

The women's conversation was oddly...edifying. They talked about their boyfriends, girlfriends, about who was hitting on whom, about which eye shadow went best with a tank top. Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirstein came to the silent conclusion that the true aliens of their world were perhaps not the Titans.

But girls.

Yep, definitely the girls.

Eren shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

He looked up to ask Jean how long they were planning to stay cooped up inside.

But Jean was looking at him intently.

'Hey, what's with that look?' Eren hissed, suspicion lacing his whisper.

Jean reached out with a hand, caught Eren's chin firmly and held it in place. 'Sshh,' the taller boy said.

'Uh, Jean?'

But the ashbrown hushed him and leaned forward.

Going paler than a sheet of ice, Eren placed his hands flat on the other man's chest and tried to shove him off. Warning bells were already ringing in his head.

'Whoa, Kirstein, whoa, what do you think you're doing? I'm married—'

There was a sharp movement, and he caught the glint of the blade. There was an audible crack. Jean had pierced the wall next to Eren's left ear with his zirconium steel in one clean dig. Jean released Eren's chin and the brunet hissed in relief, twisting his neck to find a rather small, tennis ball sized droid spider perched on the wall. He watched it convulse, the blade having sliced it into two halves.

There was another audible thud as the thing fell to the floor.

It landed between their feet and exploded in a flurry of fume and sparks.

Their little exercise didn’t go without repercussions.

In answer, the smoke detectors went off, and water sprinklers came sputtering down.

Eren and Jean scrambled out of the cubicle, only to find themselves facing a mob of hostile women.

'Peeping Toms! Ewwww!'

‘PERVERTS!'

'This is the GIRL's room, sickos!'

‘GET OUT, YOU FREAKS!'

Under the pelting rain of water and high heels, Eren decided he didn't really like this new partner of his.

 

 

 

* * *

 


	35. That Other Guy

 

 

Chapter 35: That Other Guy

~.~

It had been three days since Hanji told him about Levi's disappearance. Three days since she called. And now, he couldn't reach anybody on the comm. Not a single soul. Petra and Oluo did not return his messages, Ird and Gunther were still recovering in hospital, Hanji was caught in the middle of an investigation, and Moblit had no idea what was going on (though he did offer his heartfelt condolences). Eren didn't know what the condolences were for and before he could ask the man to explain, Gale terminated the connection.

Stupid, scheming network.

It seemed strange how everyone was avoiding him. It was an irony since this was exactly what he had wished for from the very beginning. A complete disconnect from all things 'Titan'. And yet, now that he was as separated from their world as he could be, his mind was constantly travelling back. To the world with the moonless sky. To the skyscraper world where darkness reigned. To the world where he once could wake up every morning in the fold of someone's arms. And to the world where that someone was a short tempered, moody guardian of his.

Eren ran a hand through his hair and tapped the oblique button on his wristwatch for the eleventh time. He tried for Hanji again. _Just one more time. Please, please reply, Hanji. And I swear I won't bother you again._

But there was no answer.

Why were they all avoiding him? Were they keeping something from him?

Eren wondered if the squad was still mad at him... about leaving the way he did. Yeah, that must be it. He must have pissed them off. Maybe the squad had contrived this whole 'Levi is missing' propaganda to make him come back. He could see them doing it, Oluo being the potential mastermind of such a cheap, dirty scheme like that.

All it would take was one call to confirm it.

All he had to do was ask Gale to connect him to Levi.

And he would have the answers himself.

Yet, Eren couldn't muster the courage to.

Because calling that jerk, meant admitting that Eren was still in love with him.

And maybe, that wasn't even the real reason. What Eren was truly afraid of— was hearing the silence at the other end.

And so, Eren sat on the floor in his dorm room, broiling in his own stew. His brown hair was unkempt, there was stubble growing under his lips again, and his eyes were bloodshot. It was a Sunday afternoon, and he was surrounded by mountains of laundry. He was wearing the same slacks and sweatshirt for the past three days, something which Armin had hinted at breakfast every single morning.

From somewhere deep within the pile of clothes, there emerged a low bark. And he could hear yet another shirt being ripped to shreds.

Eren sighed, pressing a hand over his face.

'Krobe, I swear to God... if you keep this up, I will pack you into a cardboard box and toss you over a bridge.'

It was an effective threat, because the dog whined and ceased its vengeful battle with his favorite maroon shirt. It emerged out of a corner, wagging its metallic tail in defeat. Krobe hobbled over to Eren and sat down obediently at his feet. It looked up at the young peacekeeper, giving him a sad, doleful stare.

Eren gave a sigh and tickled its one ear. 'Don't look at me like that, you dope. Look, I'm sorry... I'm just frustrated,’ he said. 'And I know you did nothing wrong,' he said, grabbing hold of a baseball and chucking it at the wall. He watched the ball bounce twice before it returned to his right hand. He flexed his fingers.

His nerves had recovered, and his reflexes were as good as new. Thankfully, there was one silver lining in all this mess.

Krobe watched the bouncing ball, mesmerized.

It was at that moment when the door to his dorm room creaked open.

Eren leapt to attention, shoving Krobe into hiding. How did he forget to lock the door?

He relaxed when he saw who the visitor was.

Jean stood in the doorway.

'Yo,' the ashbrown greeted with a raised hand. Dressed in his usual olive green jacket and jeans, he scrunched up his nose at the decor of Eren's room. 'Nice place you’ve got here,' he observed astutely.

'Fuck. It's just you, horseface,' Eren said, flopping down on his bed. 'Can't you knock? Oh wait, that's what decent human beings do. And you're obviously not one.'

Jean made a little amused sound at the back of his throat.

'Why? You were jacking off?'

Eren gave his fellow PeaceCorp a look of utter disgust. He allowed Krobe to come out of hiding and tossed the ball towards it.  'Get your head out of the gutter, will you? Besides, what are you doing in my room? We don't have any assignments today.'

Jean shook his head.

'No, we don't. I was just wondering what you were doing tonight.'

Eren smirked and allowed a chuckle to slip out. He wrenched the ball free from the droid's paws and turned to Jean. There were never enough chances to tease the other man, and Eren grabbed at the opportunity.

'Why? You gonna ask me out on a date, Kirstein?' Eren joked.

Jean met Eren's eyes, his expression deadpan serious.

'Yeah, I am.'

 

 

 

 

In the narrow crisscrossing alleys of Maria, what Trost was inclined to call the land of make do, peddlers and suboptimal human beings, a market flourished like a living, breathing, wild creature. Some called it a black market, though Maria's bazaars were more colourful and boisterous than the electronic malls of the city of Trost. There were no surveillance cameras here capturing every move of the denizens. There were no android security guards posted at every nook and corner. There were no artificial lights streaming from the heavens, pretending to be a second sun. There was no Military Police either breathing down your neck.

And most important of all, there was no Gale.

What there was... was Freedom. Music and laughter; street fights and bartering. This freedom from the State was intoxicating. Like crystal meth. Like the scent of helumbary. But like an exotic drug, it came with a heavy price. A price that went by the names of 'underground syndicates' and 'organised crime'.

There was a graffiti on a brick wall, spray painted by delinquents in red aerosol.

 

 

'Welcome to Hell

Stick around

Itz Better than Heaven

Most of the time.'

 

 

Two cloaked men passed a shop manned by an elderly lady. She wore a yellow bandana over her head and was dusting her wares, eyeing the weather outside warily. Desert storms were regular visitors to the world of Titan. And desert storms were bigger bullies than the State, since they had a propensity for damage outside the walled cities. The woman was stout across her midsection and was forever scowling at a little boy standing outside her shop. The child looked longingly at the old comic books on display and despite chasing him away thrice in the last one hour, the twerp always returned to gaze yearningly at the merchandise. He wanted to read them, she knew. From the sight of his rags and tattered clothes, she doubted if the brat even knew how to read.

'No money, no touching,' the woman reminded the boy.

The boy did not say anything.

'Can you even read, rugrat? Did your momma ever teach you the letters?' the woman sneered at him.

The cloaked men had walked uninterrupted through Maria's bazaar. And it was only before this quaint little shop did the shorter of the men stop, having heard the little exchange. The woman's button eyes lit up at the prospect of a potential customer. She ignored the boy and curtsied to the gentleman. Because the man wore an immaculate white shirt underneath and a cravat to boot, all signs of nobility. Though what would the elite be doing in Maria was something she couldn't really answer.

The man did not greet her back. Instead, he ventured close to the glass shelves on display. His friend did not look happy about the pit stop but conceded.

The one wearing the cravat pulled back his hood. He would have been more handsome if not for his brooding, quiet aura. He had a clean, shaved undercut with straight dark hair framing his pale features. This man pointed to the objects in her glass display.

'What is all this junk?' he asked, his crudeness surprising her.

'Ooooh, these? Got it from a rebel siege on a State vehicle. These were rejects from Titan's archives. Trinkets and oddities. All those things they smuggled from Earth but found them to be too useless for recordkeeping.'

'Earth,' the man said, his voice sounding strange.

The taller man beside him drew his hood back and joined the raven head. This one had cropped blond hair, and his face was rather familiar to the lady. The elderly woman's eyes lit up at the opportunity of making a double sale. Were the Gods of Nyse and Mael finally shining down upon her?

Farlan Church picked up a snow globe and shook it, watching the flakes dance in the glass globe. There was a snowman wearing a red scarf, with a carrot for a nose and happy looking black eyes.

'Useless junk,' Church remarked, putting the globe down. 'Let's go, Captain.'

But the man beside him refused to budge.

Levi was staring at a mask hanging innocuous at the back of the shop. It was an unusual mask with an ever-changing pattern of ink blots for a face. There were no slits for the eyes or the mouth. But the material looked like one could breathe through it without discomfort.

Farlan followed his gaze.

'What's that?' Church asked the woman.

The bandana donning shopkeeper scratched her head. 'I wish I knew. My late husband called it something. It was a funny name— wait, it's on the tip of my tongue-'

'Rorschach,' someone answered.

That someone was surprisingly Levi.

Farlan's head snapped to him. 'Wait. Raw _what_?'

Levi didn't repeat the name, and a strange wistful expression returned to him. And then, _heaven forbid_ , the man smiled. Farlan Church, in all the years he'd known his old friend, had never seen something like it.

'Yes, that's right. Rorschach,' the lady chirped on his behalf. 'From a comic book, I presume. My late husband was a fan of the book.'

Farlan remained perturbed by the smile on Levi's lips. It barely tugged at the edges before disappearing into the furrows of a grim line. As if Rivaille had forced some memory into the back of his mind. Before Farlan could ask what Levi was thinking, the shorter man rummaged through his pockets, drew out two neat bills of Titan's treasury and placed them on the counter top.

'I'll take it,' he told her.

The lady was elated.

'Two quid is generous of you, thank you. Thank you so much.'

She hurried to the back of the shop, unhooked the mask and fetched it for him.

'You have odd tastes, my dear man. But here you go.'

At the exact same moment, she saw the small boy from before, sneaking across the aisle and grabbing hold of a book from the shelf. He tried to stuff it in his pants discreetly, but the woman lunged at him.

'YOU THIEF! PUT THAT DOWN THIS INSTANT!' she proceeded to catch the boy's ears and boxed them until the urchin yelped in pain.

'Let go, let go! You're _hurting_ me!' he wailed, swatting at her hands. “I just wanted a peek.’

A pale hand caught her wrist, drawing her away from the child. The elderly woman found the raven-haired man staring at her in annoyance. The distraction was all that the little boy needed to yank himself free and scuttle away like a mouse fleeing into the gutters.

'Look at what you did, dear sir! He took off with my merch!' the woman cursed. 'How am I supposed to run business if—'

The brooding man drew up one hand to silence her. He reached into his pocket and extracted another neat bill of the Titan Treasury.

'Here, another quid,' he said, stuffing it into her hand. 'That should cover your loss.'

Turning to the blond man beside him, Levi nodded, and the party of two left the quaint little shop of Maria, leaving the elderly woman wealthier by three quid. But they left her astounded, very much astounded indeed.

'If you don't mind me asking, captain, what's the mask for?' Farlan asked him as they passed out of earshot.

Levi pulled over the hood of his cloak, scanning the crowd around them.

'Dead people don't need faces, do they?' he said.

Farlan made a troubled face. 'True. But doesn't explain what happened with the brat back there. Are you going to turn into a fairy godfather and help every kid on the street?' his aide asked, looking perplexedly at him.

'No,' replied Levi, keeping his face impassive. 'Just the ones who read comics and shit like that.'

'Why?' 

Levi shook his head, his sharp grey eyes roaming the alley's dirty walls. He read another limerick, lambasting this world of theirs. Why, he wondered. 

'No reason, Church. No reason.'

 

 

 

 

It wasn't really a date.

It was a night out with the gang of dorks. Just him, Armin, Connie and Sasha. And oh yeah, Jean too. Eren didn't know what surprised him more. The fact that the saint was coming for a late-night movie. Or that Jean _effing_ Kirstein was with them. The universe was a chaotic mess, and Eren had long stopped trying to figure it out. He sank to his knees, studying his sneakers glumly. What was he even doing outside? He had mountains of laundry and assignments waiting for him in his dorm room. And a very capricious robodog.

They were back at Mardis Theatre, looking at the array of movies running on the big screens. Eren had the deep, lingering suspicion that this was all Kirstein's idea. An elaborate setup. But to what purpose?

'How about a romcom?' Sasha suggested, pointing at The Hunger Games sequel. ‘Catching Fire'.

'Sasha, The Hunger Games has nothing to do with romcom ... or food, you know,' Connie said, with a roll of his eyes. 'What do ya suggest, Armin?' the boy with the crew cut asked the third of the company.

The blond college student was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His blue eyes shifted from one poster to another. 'I want to see... Hobbit.'

'Hell no,' Springer grunted. 'If I wanted to indulge in dwarves and dragons, I'll just go play D&D in my room.'

Connie proceeded to look at Jean and remembering their little, awkward incident from few days earlier, the boy quickly bypassed the fiend and snapped his head towards Eren instead.

'What about you, Jaeger?'

Eren shrugged.

'Do they have Titanic?'

Connie stared at him.

' _Titanic_?'

'Yeah, the one where Jack dies, and Rose has to live on without him,' the brunet said gloomily.

Connie looked over Eren worriedly. 'Can you... uh, choose something less _prehistoric?_ '

There was a pause.

'Romeo and Juliet?' Eren quipped. 'The one where they both die—'

' _Dammit_ , Jaeger! Spoiler alert much?'

Jean raised a hand to placate the bald young man in their midst. He caught the lapel to Eren's jacket with his other hand and began pulling his partner to the ticket booths. 'You know what?' Jean said to the others. 'You guys go ahead. I'll take this noob to the R rated movie they are playing in the next hall. It will be an educational experience. Hell, he _needs_ it,' Jean said, breaking into a wolfish grin. 'Ciao, you guys.'

Eren's eyes widened at this proposition.

'Whoa... Whoa. No way. I don't want to watch any R rated movies! Especially not with _you_ ,' Eren said, kicking up a fuss. But despite his objections, Jean wrestled him into an armlock, refusing to free him. Jean then proceeded to drag him down the corridor, despite the boy's vehement protests.

The trio watched the squabbling pair disappear into the crowd.

Connie tugged at Armin's sleeve.

'Hey man, I don't think it's good to leave Eren with that kissing fiend.'

Armin nodded grimly in agreement.

'I know. But this was all Kirstein's idea anyway,’ said the blond, before turning to the bright lit posters. ‘Anyway, can we decide on a lame movie and be done with it already? I've got a Kinetics thesis to work on, you know. And that little blighter isn't going to write itself.'

 

 

 

 

The R rated movie turned out to be horror flick 'The Conjuring'.

_Note to self._

_Kill Jean first thing tomorrow._

Eren visibly balked at every uncanny sound, flinched at every ghostly impression and recoiled at every appearance of the sinister thing inhabiting the country house. One hour into the movie, he gave up and closed his eyes shut, hoping for the ordeal to end. His fingers were wrapped around the armrest, digging into the velvet.

'Horseface, I hate you. I _seriously_ do,' he muttered under his breath, refusing to see any more of the horror flick.

He heard Jean snicker next to him.

'You can hold my hand, you know. If it makes you feel better.'

'Fuck off.'

'And seriously, you're afraid of this? We fight monster machines every day, and you're afraid of a little ghost movie? Jaeger, you are fuckin' adorable.'

'Shut up.’

Eren knew Jean was smiling now.

He heard the ashbrown shift in his seat, heard his partner let out a low, appreciative whistle.

'But you know, I'm not the only one who finds this a riot. There’s a couple three rows down and hot _damn_... they're making out in public.'

Eren sulked in the silence.

Why, oh God, why was he stuck with this—

'I mean, look at them,' Jean urged, going listless in his seat. 'Man, they're putting on a more entertaining show than the movie. But wait, there's something wrong about the dude. Why does he look constipated?'

'Horseface, stop being a disgusting voyeur, and give the people some privacy,' Eren said with a shudder, wishing his partner would stop with the running commentary. 

'No, I'm telling you. There’s something wrong with the guy.'

'You're disgusting—' said Eren, opening his eyes and giving a furtive glance at the couple Jean had pointed out. The couple were sitting three rows in the back, leeway to the right. He couldn't see the man's face, but the woman had all of Eren's attention. He almost didn't recognise her in the darkness. He almost didn't recognise her without her blond hair pulled into a bun. But the nose gave her away. That thick, bridged nose and face like a Viking. Eren felt the temperature drop and felt a cold fury fill the cavity in his chest. 

She’d pulled herself into the man's lap and with her hands wrapped around the tall man's head, the woman trailed feather light kisses on his temple. The guy had short dark hair and surprisingly, he didn't look enthuasiastic to be at the receiving end of her ministrations. He looked tired, exhausted as if the evening were sapping the very energy out of him. Neither of them was interested in the horror show. The reticent young man finally pushed the woman off, grabbed his coat and made to leave. Something had ticked him off apparently.

Eren nudged Jean's shoulder and signaled that they should follow.

Jean looked back at him incredulously.

'Who's the disgusting voyeur now?' Jean countered, but the ashbrown didn't protest when he saw the seriousness wash over Eren. 

They watched as the couple traipsed up the steps of the dark chamber, an argument having broken out between them.

Jean and Eren followed, hunched over and crept out into the hallway where the guy in the ticketbooth gave the peacekeepers an odd look.

But Eren was too caught up with following his targets to pay attention.

Who was that guy with her? An accomplice?

A Titan?

He kept a few steps behind them, close enough to hear their voices and just far enough to stay out of sight. He heard fragments of their conversation.

'Bertolt, I'm trying. I have been trying to make this work for the last four years,' he heard the woman say as she pulled the man's arm over her shoulder and helped him walk.

'Let me go,’ hissed her companion. ‘I can walk. I'm happy that you're by my side. That is all I want. Nothing more,’ he paused to caress her loose blond locks in his hand, and he kissed her on the forehead. 'Nothing more,' he said again, as if trying to convince himself.

The girl looked agitated.

'I’ll fix it, Bertolt. It's just a little sacrifice.'

'No. _Enough_ with the sacrifices.'

Eren had been so engrossed in tailing the couple, he almost ran headfirst into a crowd of window-shoppers, but Jean pulled him back in the nick of time.

'Watch where you're going,' Jean hissed at him before his attention zeroed in on their targets. 'Who are we following?'

'The girl,' said Eren.

Jean met the brunet's gaze.

'You know her? Who’s she...? A friend?'

Eren's eyes were fixed on the blonde woman, and he gave an audible snort at Jean’s choice of wording.

'Her name is Annie Leonhart, Jean. She is one of us,' Eren gritted his teeth, feeling his pulse ratchet inside him. ‘And believe me, she is _no_ friend of mine.'

 

 

* * *

 


	36. Welcome to Hell

 

 

Chapter-36- Welcome to Hell

~.~

 

It should have been their day off. A well-deserved one too. No college, no protecting the world from the invasion of monster machines. Two regular guys spending time at the movies, that’s all he’d wanted. Jean Kirstein got a sinking feeling that they should have stuck with The Conjuring, no matter how spine-chilling the movie turned out to be. And yes, the gospel truth was that Eren wasn’t the only one terrorised by the vengeful spirit of Bathsheba that night. The horror flick terrorised Jean too, bringing the boy close to the verge of pissing in his pants, but Eren's more visibly shaken countenance made Jean bottle up his own fears. In the end, the ashbrown resorted to watching and teasing his gullible partner, delighting in the way Jaeger squirmed in his seat and kept his eyes shut. They should have stuck with the movie. Maybe even indulged in caramel popcorn, pizza and carbonated drinks like two regular guys on a college break. Maybe even let their hands roam and made out in the darkness, kissing each other raw. The kind of thing normal folks did on an _effing_ date, yep. Tell that to Jaeger— married and pining for some guy light-years away.

Jean’s frustration was justified.

Because, the two peacekeepers were now standing in a shady neighbourhood, miles away from both Sylvan University and Mardis Theatre. Jean wondered about the others. He bet the others were having fun— Sasha must be through her fourth bag of potato chips already while Connie must be keeping Armin awake through the action sequences. Maybe, they were done with their movie and back at the dorm. Back in their warm quilts for a well-deserved night of sleep. Or perhaps, the nerds decided to be a little reckless, to do a little of the carpe diem and went for karaoke at some joint.

Well, no matter what, he bet the idiots were having fun.

Unlike Jean and the suicidal bastard next to him.

The ashbrown let out a sigh.

How did he end up getting himself involved?

And here, the truth was becoming apparent. That Jean Kirstein had some soul-searching left to do with regards to his partner, and how he really felt about a certain Eren Jaeger. Feelings that lingered close to affection.

They were staking out a single storey house. The blondie and the giant had led them to a quiet neighbourhood close to the eastern docks. Eren seemed to know the place; there was a glimmer of recognition in his gaze as he scanned the block. The brunet scratched at the empty skin around his neck, as if expecting to find something there. Jean had seen him do it twice before. A subconscious tic, perhaps. The grey home before them was shrouded by autumn trees. The garden lay withered— a colour of mottled brown, and the sprinklers had run dry. The white picket fence had crude graffiti painted over it, and a cobblestone path led to the front door from the gates. The lights were off except for the faint iridescent glow in the bedroom of the upper landing.

A bedside lamp, if Jean had to hazard a guess.

At first, they had caught silhouettes moving.

And then, there was pitch darkness, void of shapes and sounds.

Eren and Jean were standing across the street, next to the fire hydrant. They were both watching the house, one young man looking strangely determined. While the other watched the road, hoping the cops wouldn't spot them loitering around. Jean had run into the wrong side of the law too many times while carrying out his PeaceCorp duties. The cops seemed to always catch him at the wrong place, wrong time, booking him for trespassing and suspicious behaviour. And how does one convince a patrol officer that he was a duty-bound peacekeeper on the lookout for trespassers and illegal immigrants himself.

'This is stalking, y’know,' Jean pointed out curtly. 'That's one year imprisonment, and five year probation as per state laws.'

Eren shrugged, not really listening.

'Trust me, Jean. Stalking is nothing compared to what she did… to me and Levi's squad.'

Jean didn't know what to make of that.

Something piqued his attention. He massaged his temples wearily.

'Hold on. She was part of the 104th, you said?'

Eren nodded, his expression wounded.

'Yeah. We were in the same trainee class. Comrades who swore on the same blood oath,’ he chuckled. ‘Until she almost killed me, that is.'

There was a strange fervour in his expression, a bloodlust to derive payback from this stranger. It was amazing to behold how Eren switched from one emotion in the spectrum to the next. A Molotov cocktail waiting to be hurled.

Eren glanced at the time on his watch and turned restless, running his hands through his hair, turning it messier than before.

'This is taking forever. I'm going in, Jean. You stay here.'

Jean didn't like the idea and caught the sleeve of Eren’s parka, halting him. 'Are you nuts?' Jean hissed at him. 'You told me she is a one-man army. You can't take her down alone. You know that.'

Eren’s resolve remained undeterred.

'She has my gateway key, Jean. And I will do _whatever_ it takes to get it back.'

Jean regarded the boy in the soft yellow hues of the lamp post. Yeah, there was that old spirit again, smouldering in those tanned shoulders, tension waiting to be let loose. Eren never did learn how to back down. The ashbrown withdrew his hand, understanding why Eren needed to do this. The boy was indeed suicidal, but there was no stopping the bastard when he had his mind set on something.

'Fine,' Jean relented with a frown. 'But we need a distress signal.'

Eren broke into a reluctant smile.

'Alright, if I'm in trouble, I’ll croak like a frog.'

 

 

 

 

Eren circled the house, looking for a way in. He treaded around the garden gnomes and searched for an opening. Any means to get inside. The front door was bolted shut, so were the windows to the kitchen and the living room. He tried the back door, his shaking hands fidgeting with the brass knob but to no avail. Thankfully, there were no alarms or watchdogs to protect the house. He snorted at the idea of any burglar trying to get into Leonhart's happy home. The poor guy would never know what hit him.

The Leonhart home.

Eren frowned at how _odd_ it sounded.

Was this crumbling cellar in a rundown neighbourhood where she lived? In all the time they spent on their vigils together, why had he never asked Annie about her life? About her family? Where she lived? How she got scouted into the Titan Army? Which university did she go to? So many questions that went unasked and unanswered. After all, she was the only other Earthborn he had known at that time. That should have made them thicker than blood.

Yeah... thicker than blood.

She proved that to him, alright.

Eren remembered now; there had been rumours of a civilian in her life back then. The one Eren had joked to be a Godzilla to have warmed the ice queen's heart. Was it the man he'd seen at Mardis Theatre? The tall dude?

It struck Eren how little he knew about her outside of the Training Corps. They had spent years, readying themselves both physically and mentally for the challenges ahead. They had spent hours on the grounds, running a rat's race to the top ten, evenings spent sparring and mocking each other over the wrestling mat. Eren wouldn't be half the good fighter he was, without acknowledging Annie's role in his grooming. And yet, they had never connected outside those fisticuffs and training rings.

Why?

Because they were soldiers?

Or because the State had nurtured in them the philosophy of being silos?

Never tell anyone that you're a PeaceCorp.

Never let emotions come into play.

Be ruthless.

Or like Levi said. _Never wear your heart on your sleeve._

He was perturbed at that memory. No, let's not go down that road, Eren reminded himself. Not back to that day when everything got screwed over. Eren turned to his watch and realised his patience was running thin. He heard a whistle and turned to look at the street. Jean waved at him from his roosting spot. Kirstein was sitting on the sidewalk under the awning of a bakery with boarded up windows. The taller man mouthed the question ' _What the hell are you doing?'_

Eren put up his hands in frustration.

 _I can't find a way in_ , he mimed back and gestured to the bolted windows of the house.

Jean flicked his head as if to say, _well, figure it out soon, douchebag_. _You’re running out of time._

Eren gave the other man a frown and circled the house a second time. He was trying. Of course, he was _trying._ He slipped past the driveway door and walked into the backyard, almost knocking himself flat over a rake. And here, in the backyard with crates of wood and a swimming pool facing the drought, he found it. An opening from the gods. The glass panels to the basement window. He scooted over to the house quietly, bent down and tried his luck with the latch. Much to his surprise, the panels slid open... but with a nerve-wracking creak. He stilled for one long moment, hearing his heart thunder in his chest. He wondered if anyone else heard it.

But the world remained as silent as a graveyard.

Eren peeked in for a glimpse at the basement, but all he saw was a thin veiled darkness. The smell of sawdust hit him. He could see the outline of a workshop table, the bannisters leading to a door and nothing more.

Eren gave one last glance at the neighbourhood outside. And then, taking a deep breath in, he broke in. It was a tight squeeze, and he slithered into the opening, scraping his elbows across the hard edges of the window frame. With a heave, he landed on the floor of the basement clumsily. He bit back a curse when his left foot hit the workshop table. Something tumbled down, and he guessed he’d scattered a bottle of pills.

That hadn’t been an easy dive.

But hey, he was in.

Now what?

He stood on his feet, waiting for his vision to get used to the darkness. Exhaling sharp, he staggered his way to the nearest wall and groped around for a switch. _Come on, come on._

Someone found the switch before he could.

A lone bulb hanging from the rafters lit up, and Eren blinked against the light that flooded the basement. There were blinding spots in his vision, and he shrouded his eyes against the light. When he looked up, there was someone sitting on the steps to the basement door.

He froze when he saw who it was.

Annie graced him with a simmer of a smile.

She was barefoot, dressed in blue Bermuda shorts and a shirt, which looked two sizes too large for her. She looked at home, save for the menacing smile tugging at her lips. Seated with her arms wrapped about her knees, Annie showed no surprise at seeing him. One hand was outstretched, pressed over the light switch.

'Took you long, Jaeger,' Annie greeted, raising her other hand in a mock wave. 'But my, my, what poor manners you have. Didn't your mommy teach you to knock first?'

Eren regarded her cautiously. He took two steps backwards and found his back to have hit the wall.

'Hey Annie,' he greeted in a low voice. He hoped he sounded confident, because he certainly wasn’t feeling it. 'You were expecting me? I'm flattered.'

'Yes,' the blue eyed blonde drawled. 'It's been a while.’

Annie watched him for a long moment, sizing him up in the silence. She had that predatory look going for her. A constant switch between amusement and indifference. She rose to her bare feet and stepped down from the stairs languidly, descending one step at a time. The Bermuda shorts showed her well-toned thighs as she made her way towards Eren.

'How have you been keeping, Eren? You don’t look too good. I guess being sold out by the _love_ of your life must have hurt like a bitch.' Annie said, feigning a sweet, little Lolita voice. She walked towards him, her feet echoing in the hollow, strained silence of the basement. Her eyes blazed with a quiet topaz fire. 'Poor Eren baby,' she cooed. 'Did it hurt? To see your home crumble like a house of cards? Did it bring your little world crashing down?'

Eren chuckled at her attempt to rouse him.

'You can't provoke me, Annie. I'm not fifteen anymore,' Eren said, though he was seething inside.

Annie smiled.

'Aw, you've grown up.' There was a dangerous flare in her eyes. 'What are you doing here, Jaeger? Breaking into my home?'

'I came to get back what’s mine.'

'Ah, the key,' she said. She reached into the collar of her over-sized shirt and pulled out a string. And Eren saw it. After what seemed like ages, he saw it. The golden key. The one his father had left him. The one which had made a mockery of his existence and now lay in the hands of an adversary.

It was a fleeting glance. Annie dropped the key back into the fold of her shirt and smiled at him.

'You want it?' she taunted. Her voice lost its sickly sweetness as she held up her fists, assuming an offensive stance. ‘Come and get it,’ she challenged.

Eren nodded, surrendering himself to the bloodlust.

Just like old times.

 

 

 

 

The blows came swift and heavy. Some hit him square in his chest, others skidded past his ears, landing under his jaw and easing into the spaces between his ribs. All the vulnerable spots of a human. She knew the whole fucking anatomy. Nothing had changed in all these years. She was still the faster one, the devious one. Her strength was unparalleled, her speed impeccable. Eren aimed punches at her head, hits into her gut, and she evaded all of them. The woman was like a fucking machine, anticipating every move, every sound. Eren was left panting and breathless as she shot out her leg and kneed him in his stomach.

Eren staggered, coughing and doubling over from the pain.

The brunet panted hard, unable to look past the dots in his vision.

Damn it— what the hell was with this woman?

Annie didn’t break a sweat.

'Don’t tell me you’re done already,' she mocked him.

Eren glanced up at her and licked his lips. He started talking in the vain attempt to restore his bearings.

'We were comrades, Annie… We were meant to protect the worlds. Give it back,' he urged. ‘The key belongs to me!’

Annie's dazzling eyes gauged him. The steel blue orbs stared at him, and she dropped her raised fists.

Something strange came over her.

'Why do you want it, Jaeger?' she asked in a low voice. 'Do you want to go back that bad? There is nothing for you in Titan.'

Eren let out a snarl.

'Shut up, will you? I don't need any of your mind games,' he replied breathlessly. He hoisted himself back on his feet, looking frustrated and exhausted to the core. He had been fighting shapeless enemies for weeks and wished everyone would cut him some slack.

Annie regarded him in surprise.

'Mind games? Oh, you poor baby. They haven't told you, have they?'

Eren grew frigid still. Suspicion crossed his features.

'What’re you talking about?' he asked her.

Annie's simpering smile remained plastered to her face. Her eyes shone against twilight dripping in through the window, and she studied him like a lab rat.

'He is dead,’ she told him softly. ‘The one you trusted. The one you said you owed your life to. He’s dead, Jaeger.'

Eren felt a sudden coldness wash over him. Like the time his seniors slam dunked Eren into a swimming pool in December. His hands went clammy, his gaze left the blondie to seek assurances from the floor.

'No,' Eren said, his voice soft and halting. 'No way. You're lying.’

Annie flicked her head towards his watch, gesturing towards his wristwatch.

'No lies, Jaeger. Why don’t you ask Gale if you don’t believe me?'

Eren looked up and stared at her. He shook his head. No, he wasn't falling for a trick like that. It was another ploy to unsettle him, another trap to mislead him into believing the worse.

At his denial, Annie clicked her tongue. She lurched forward without warning and grabbed hold of his arm, twisting it behind his back, dragging him down to his knees.

Eren winced from the pain. It was that right arm of his.

And yet nothing hurt as much as the clammy coldness that had settled in his chest.

_Resist, c’mon, resist._

‘Let go, ice queen,’ Eren muttered. ‘This isn’t funny—'

She didn’t release him. He heard her grapple for his wristwatch, pressing the switch despite his struggles, and Eren heard the static of the network in the wretched silence of the night.

'Gale,' Annie called in a chipper voice. 'Connect me to Rivaille Levi please,' she said proudly.

Eren froze, despite the dull ache in his arm. He felt Annie's fingers digging into his flesh. But then, the words came to deliver the final blow. The words of the network.

'Unable to connect. Rivaille Levi— Deceased.'

Eren felt the hold on him slacken. Annie finally released him, and Eren sunk to his heels, his right arm falling limp at his side. Eren stared at the watch on his wrist, disbelief etched on his features.

Annie crouched before him, her face devoid of emotion, always the perfect machine.

'Welcome to Hell,' was all she said.

 

 

 

 

 

It must have been a fading memory from two years ago.

They were standing on the old helipad of Trost Army headquarters, the one on the rooftop. The new one cantilevered from the 52nd floor and the Titan army used it for all docking and logistic operations. Everyone had forgotten about this old helipad, which sat hundred storeys high. The winds were crazy up here, whistling in his ears and sending goose bumps up his naked arms. The sky was less smoggy, a mystic grey blue and the air had the rare essence of freshness. This was the closest they could get to in imagining Earth's blue skies. And it still remained a poor imitation. Like street art to Van Gogh. Titan didn't come close by even a sliver.

The heliport used to be a functional launchpad years ago. It now lay rustic with aircrafts parked at the docks, all abandoned for their broken wings and dusty cockpits. Gale's control tower stood looming on the roof, its scaffolding structure fifty meters high. The tower's red lights blinked mercilessly over them.

There were few species of birds in Titan. And even these birds couldn't reach such dizzying heights.

It was fellow PeaceCorp Marco Bott who had first introduced Eren to this place. As if it were a neat, little secret of his own. A personal hideout of his when the stress became overwhelming. Marco was disposed to solitary wandering. He was one of the few thoughtful Titans that Eren had met in the 104th squadron. Titans, by nature, did not dwell on emotions and feelings. Everything was business, obligations and a contractual way of life. But Marco was an exception. He was meditative and observant; one of Eren's treasured friends on this side.

It took some bribing to make Marco forget the secret about the old helipad.

It took Eren a whole lot more of bribing to turn that secret into his own.

Eren was wearing his old training corps slacks; he’d stripped out of his sweatshirt to the white tank top underneath. The top accentuated his lean, taut muscles though the young keeper wasn’t wholly conscious of it. He had his face scrunched up in concentration, blue green eyes fixated on a spot in the distance.

Right where the other man stood.

The helipad and just the two of them.

Eren watched the man at the end of the runway. Dressed in his military uniform, the mitt in Levi's hand looked adorably out of place. The older still hadn't worn it. Instead, Rivaille looked down at the baseball mitt with as much adoration he had for mewling cats.

The competitive flare in Eren subsided.

'You're supposed to wear it, Corporal,' Eren shouted at him, almost laughing at the clueless expression on the older's face. 'It won't bite you, trust me.'

The myopic figure in the distance (looking smaller than usual) held up the mitt as if it personally offended him.

'It's filthy, Eren. It even reeks,' the man grumbled. 'Of all the things you bring from your planet, you choose a flea-ridden, germ infested—'

'Leviii, come on,' Eren caught himself short. He scowled at the slip of his tongue. Corporal, he reminded himself. As long as they were on army grounds, it was always supposed to be _Corporal._

Thankfully, the older man didn’t notice the miss.

Eren waved at him in impatience.

'Hey. I did wash it twice. Quit being crabby and wear it already.'

'What exactly are we doing up here?' Levi asked, putting on his sleek black gloves and then, he wore the mitt over them. He raised his hand and wagged his fingers, asking Eren to go ahead and pitch.

Finally, Eren thought with a grin. About time too.

The brunet wondered what he should start the game with. A fastball? A curve ball? A beanie?

'I asked a question, brat.'

'Playing catch. What do you think?' Eren replied, settling on the choice of a curveball. He drew his arm back and biting his lower lip in concentration, he pitched the ball with all his strength.

Despite the wind, the ball sailed in the air in a wide arc. Levi gauged it well, slipped four steps to his right and caught the ball one handed. All evidence of sharp reflexes despite having never played the game before. Damn, he _was_ good at this.

'Correct me if I'm wrong, sunshine. I'm not well versed with the customs of your dumbass planet. But isn't playing catch what fathers do with their sons?' Levi asked, throwing the ball back to him.

Eren almost missed it since Levi sent a fast one. And of course, that wasn’t the only reason. The brunet paled at the revelation behind those words. Since when did Levi start learning about his world? More importantly, since when did Levi want to understand what Earth was all about? Rivaille had never shown the faintest interest before.

Eren caught the flying missile clumsily. The young man of twenty-one put the game on pause. And holding the ball to his chest, Eren looked up to meet the narrow stare of the Corporal. The winds had changed direction without warning. The sky was lit up since it was nine in the morning, and it was Eren who’d insisted on coming up for a game before the sunlight faded in the afternoon.

Levi had indulged him. Like he always did.

Now that Eren thought about it, Levi was always indulging him.

Eren felt his throat go dry.

Was he still being treated like a ward?

Maybe, it was his own fault. For being childish enough to suggest playing catch in an old helipad. What had he been thinking?

Levi smirked as if he could read Eren's thoughts.

'You just realized, didn't you? That you have a father's complex, an Oedipus complex and a hero complex to boot. Any more I need to know about?'

Eren opened his mouth to rebuke the allegation but closed his lips. His eyes grew shifty, and he cleared his throat.

'Hey now, lot of people bond over a game of catch, Corporal,' defended Eren, pitching the ball to the man again. It was a poorly aimed shot since the rubber hit the guardrail and rolled under the belly of an old TJ. Levi scowled at the effort of having to fetch it. 'Sorry,' trailed Eren, apologizing with a wince and folded hands. 'Besides, it doesn't hurt to spend a little time together… does it?'

'If you want to bond so much, Eren,' Levi remarked, giving him a shrewd look. 'I can think of other ways of the more stimulating kind—'

'That’s not what I meant!' Eren bleated in chagrin.

Levi gave a small chuckle and climbed under the TJ nimbly to retrieve the ball. He didn't throw it back. Instead, he took off his mitt and stuffed the ball into it. Taking his gloves off, he walked over to Eren, taking measured steps until they were both standing mere inches apart.

Levi hovered close enough for discomfort, close enough to make Eren turn into jelly at the sudden proximity.

'Uh… Game over?' Eren asked, disgruntled at this sudden invasion into his personal space.

Levi gestured towards the helipad around them.

'Too windy,' Levi answered and then, turned to study the brunet. 'And I think we're skating around an important subject.'

Eren found that he couldn’t really look the other man in the eye. He let out a shaky laugh.

'Uh huh. What's that?'

'Eren,' said Levi, trying to draw his attention.

The brunet cocked up an eyebrow, meeting his gaze finally.

'Yeah?'

'I'm not your father,' said Levi. 

'Of course, I know that—'

'Nor am I your mom to baby you. And not a hero. Do you get me?'

Eren heaved a sigh and nodded.

'Yes, sir.'

Levi looked troubled. Apparently, that wasn't the response he had been looking for.

'No. You’re not getting it still.'

Eren gave him a sidelong glance, puzzled.

'What do you want me to say?'

He backed into the netted fence as Levi took a step closer.

'Tell me something. What am I to you?' Levi asked. 'You asked me to marry you a year ago. And I did. We signed the contract before witnesses, and you _still_ have trouble saying it. What am I to you, Eren?'

'My… partner?'

There was a passing flicker of irritation in grey eyes.

'Your partner is Annie Leonhart. Not me, moron,' Levi said, looking chaffed and disappointed.

Eren flinched, regretting the mistake. 

True, the man had a point.

'Okay, fine. I agree that wasn't the right answer,' Eren admitted, running a hand through his brown hair, looking vexed with himself.

Levi's grey eyes were still searching his face for the answer. He stepped closer until their noses touched. The mouth, that often brooded, pressed against the corner of his lips.

'Why do you have so much trouble saying it?' Levi prodded. 'It's just a _word,_ trooper. It was even on the contract.'

Eren’s reply was half gargled in exasperation. Levi had him cornered, alright, the older’s arms holding him in place.

'Because!' Eren began, 'Because it's embarrassing to say it out loud, you asshole. It might not affect you the same way, but it means a great deal more to me. Not just a term in the contract, Levi.'

The grey eyed man let out a 'tch'.

'Jaeger, you were the one who proposed in the first place. It's just language, Eren. Saying it aloud wouldn't make you any lesser of a man.'

Eren ground his teeth, baring the whites at his guardian.

'Fine. You're my spouse. Satisfied?'

Levi leaned in, a small smile playing at his thin lips. He caught Eren's chin with a finger and nodded.

'Correct. Legally, wedded spouse. But there is a better word for it. Starts with a 'h’.'

Eren balked, tilting his head and squeezing his eyes shut. Levi's breath was hot on his ear, making it difficult to keep his composure.

The peacekeeper sighed and conceded grumpily.

'Okay! OKAY! You're my husband. Happy?'

There was a pause before Levi pulled back.

'Ditto. And you better fucking remember it,' said Levi, shoving the mitt and ball back into Eren's hands. The brunet opened his eyes and watched him walk away. Levi walked towards the exit where the elevator was waiting for him.

'So, does this mean we can't play catch?' Eren asked after him, turning crestfallen. 'Because you think it's some sort of a dad complex or something?'

Levi paused.

'Come home early and we can play catch all night long, Jaeger. Maybe even bond—'

'Alright, fine, I get it,' the young keeper replied indignantly. 'No more catch.'

Eren watched as Levi strolled his way to the elevator doors.

'Hey,' Eren called.

The man turned and regarded him curiously.

'You know, you haven't said those three words either. It's been six years, and you still haven't said it.'

'What three words?' Levi asked, feigning innocence. 'You’re a shithead? Your breath stinks? You love cock?'

'You _know_ what I mean!' Eren growled back.

Levi paused for the briefest of moments.

'If you wanted to hear it so much, sunshine, you should have put it down in the contract.'

Levi turned his back and left, waving a curt hand over his shoulder. Eren watched him disappear behind the elevator's doors.

 

 

 

 

A prick.

He had always been a jerk.

A jerk who couldn't possibly... _die._

Eren clamped his fingers into a fist and let out a feral growl. Annie's face showed a glimmer of surprise. She hadn't expected that sudden spurt of rage. He lunged at her, headfirst and sent them both crashing into the workshop table.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 


	37. Her Bitter Medicine

 

 

Chapter-37- Her Bitter Medicine

~.~

Armin just about slipped off his back. Connie stopped once to grab the boy's arms and hauled him over his shoulders again. The blond boy unaware of Springer's kindness nuzzled the back of Connie's t shirt, leaving a sumptuous amount of drool on the fabric. The bald college student fought the urge to body slam Armin into the pavement. No, genius's sleeping. Not his fault, Connie reminded himself.

All Connie Springer wanted was for people to refrain from kissing and drooling on him. It was a simple enough request really. That wasn't asking too much, was it? But no, siree, the universe had decided that Connie Springer's future career ought to be manning a kissing booth at a carnival. And it wasn't exactly a profession he looked forward to. Especially if there were fiends like Jean Kirstein around, waiting to smooch him.

Armin began mumbling incoherently against his neck, his breath tickling the hairs on Connie’s neck.

Connie Springer stalled.

Now, this was interesting. What confessions would the saint make in his oh-so-vulnerable state? Anything he might regret tomorrow?

Connie hoped it was a dirty enough secret that could be leveraged later. A crush? A childish fear of spiders or the boogieman? Secret stash of porn under the bed? But instead, Armin droned on about a lesson from last week.

'The Lagrangian function characterizes… the state of a physical system…. in mechanics… the Lagrangian function is… the kinetic energy… minus the potential energy…'

Connie gave Sasha a horrified look.

'SASHA! Make him stop. It's bad enough that I must carry the idiot! But if he’s going to sleeptalk an entire lecture, I’m so dumping this fool!'

Sasha let out a giggle and wagged a finger in his face.

'Hey. It's your fault for dragging him to the karaoke bar,' she slurred midway in speech, having had a little too much to drink. Her expressive eyes had caught sight of something, and she turned to the building that loomed ahead. 'Eek, Connie. What was that?'

'What was _what_?'

'I saw something leap out of the boy’s dormitory.'

'Another French toast?'

'No,' she said in anguish. 'It didn't look like food!'

'What did it look like then?'

'Small and black! Like a poltergeist!'

'A ghost? Really? Where?'

'Over there!' she pointed to one of the rooms on the first floor. It was shrouded in darkness, the window left carelessly open.

'Isn't that Eren's room…?' asked Connie, eyes wide. 'They aren't back yet? What the hell are those two lummoxes up to?'

Sasha gave a shudder.

'Connie! There's a ghost haunting Eren's room. What should we do? It's your entire fault for renting him Paranormal Activity last week. Oh, poor Eren. You think he knows he’s haunted?'

'Let's not tell him,' Connie decided in that deft manner of his. 'I'm sure he won’t notice. He's got enough troubles of his own.'

 

 

 

 

 

Eren breathed hard. He was lying in the ruins of the wooden table. There was pain, a whole lot of hurt, and not all of it was physical. There had been a voice in his head before. A voice that had stood by him through highs and lows, amused at times, teasing and chiding in other places. Because when you are worlds apart, you learned to make do with just a voice.

And now, even that little sliver of hope was gone. Not a word spoken. There was no one to even call his name.

No, can't deal with that right now, he told himself, heaving under the strain.

The legs of the workbench had collapsed under their collective weight. The subsequent tussle between their two bodies had kicked up a storm of sawdust. The crash was deafening and had shattered what little restraint he had for keeping the peace of the neighbourhood. There were splinters of wood buried under him and each time Eren moved, he felt something sharp graze against the inside of his pant thigh.

Annie had taken the brunt of the fall. Her hair had come undone from its butterfly clasp. And she'd lost the girly accessory in the subsequent scuffle. She snarled at him. Though Eren wasn't sure if she was mad about losing her hair clip or the fact that Eren had practically demolished her basement. Blond locks framed the Viking face. Despite the scrapes and scratches on her legs, she was still the first to rise out of the rubble. Eren saw the woman take a moment to compose herself, her blue eyes straying to the mess on the floor. Something moved in them, regret and frustration at the sight of chaos.

She stooped low to pick up a bottle of pills and read the label in silence. Blood streaked, tired and forlorn in the yellow light of the basement. Suddenly, Annie Leonhart seemed to have lost the cool, headstrong aura Eren had always admired in her.

Eren watched his old partner, wondering how things had turned out this way.

He heard her laugh. That humourless laugh of hers echoed like a gull roving over the harbour.

Eren sat up in the mishap, a groan escaping him as he untangled his leg from the wooden chips.

'What the hell is so funny?' he asked her.

Her laugh washed away, leaving behind the residue of a small smile. Annie brushed away the strands from her face and turned to glance at him.

'Look at us, Jaeger. One Earthborn turned against the other. We're a joke.'

Eren regarded her warily.

'Oh yeah? I am not the one who started this, Annie.'

She dropped the bottle to the floor, and it fell with an audible crunch. Annie reached into the back of her Bermuda shorts, and her hand emerged back with a knife. She walked up to him and sank down on one knee, her face hovering over his.

'You're still blaming me?' she asked in a low whisper.

Eren edged away from the knife as it found itself under his neck. At the old scar she’d carved in him.

Eren's jade eyes darted to hers furiously.

'You know, icequeen, it's kinda difficult not to blame you,' he said, indicating to the dagger she held against him. 'That's mine, isn't it? The one you used last time. Keeping it as a souvenir, Annie? War spoils? Could you be anymore fucked up?' Eren asked with a huff, baring his teeth at her.

Annie smiled.

'You're like a mongrel,' she observed with a sneer. 'Untamed, manic but faithful to the hand that feeds you.'

'That's loads better than being a machine without a heart.'

'I'm not the enemy,' Annie snapped at him. 'I'm only a pawn and so are you, Eren. Of course,' she drifted off. 'They always took a special interest in you. Unpredictable as you are.'

Eren stared at her.

'What are you talking about?'

'Keith Shadis was right. You really are a dunderhead,' the woman replied.

Annie wedged away the collar to his jacket with her knife. Eren cringed as she pressed the cold metal of the blade against his neck. She traced the jaunt lines of his old scar, the skin patched up by the best medicos of Titan.

'Did you ever wonder… why your neck healed so soon but not your arm?' Annie asked, blue eyes shining bright in the dank shadows of the basement. 'Do you think it would have been impossible for Titans to fix up one little arm? They have the cure to every ailment and disease, Eren. Do you really think it was impossible for them?'

Eren stared at her.

'…what?'

'Why did they put you to trial while denying my existence?'

The brown-haired keeper swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head.

'Because it made things convenient for them. They wanted to put you out of action. You were useless to them without the key. And they didn't need you especially when they had a strong, able, no-questions-asked soldier like _me_ ,' she slurred the last word with an angry hiss.

'No,' said Eren. 'No way. You can't be working for the—'

'The Titan State. Yeah, I am.'

Annie drew back, releasing her hold on him. She let him wallow in the truth and enjoyed the contortion of emotions in his face. Eren felt his fingers shaking, and he stuffed them into his pockets.

'You're lying, ice queen. You gotta be.'

Annie laughed. 'Aw, you're so cute. There you go, being in denial again. We are all dogs of the State, Jaeger. He must have figured it out as well. Your guardian… your beloved husband. And look, he's dead now. I won't be surprised if it were Commander Zachlay's orders.'

Eren shook his head resolutely.

'No. I won't believe any of this. The State trained us to be PeaceCorps. To protect the—'

Annie gave a scoff and sneered back at him.

'Oh, the gateways. Don't get me started on that. Did you know, Eren? My orders were to kill you that night on Gateway 22 and take possession of the key. But I could carry out only one of those orders.'

A silence enveloped the basement.

Eren looked up at her.

'Why did you let me go then?'

Annie Leonhart stared long at him, as if trying to decipher the answer to that question herself. She shrugged. 'Why,' she echoed. 'Maybe it was a change of heart.'

She turned to him and watched him in the silence. 'Deep down, we are all human, trying to find something to hold on to... You know, I was always a little jealous of you. There you were. Always spouting ideals, trusting your friends, believing in people, doing your best… I was always envious.'

'Me?' Eren echoed. 'You were the best of our entire squadron, Annie! Why the hell would anyone be jealous—'

He couldn't finish. Annie lurched forward, and there was that blade against his neck again, sharp and cold to his skin.

'Always in your own little world, Jaeger. You never pay attention, do you? You had what most of us struggle to find in an entire lifetime. A home, you idiot. And know what?' she sneered. 'I loved watching it fall. I loved seeing it burn to ashes. Because it should be a sin for one person to be allowed that much of happiness. Especially for a soldier. And now I can kill you. It's a nasty business but don't hold it against me, Jaeger. I'm only following orders.'

Eren winced as the knife dug into his neck.

'Annie, why—’

'Why?' she repeated. 'Because I am Faust and I made a deal with the devil.'

There was a loud crash, and the sound startled them. They looked towards the source of the disturbance. The basement door had swung open, and Eren watched in surprise as Jean's head poked through the doorway. The ashbrown clambered through the opening, dragging someone down with him. Someone taller and who provided little resistance. It was Annie's companion. The one they had seen at Mardis theatre. The man looked deathly pale and was caught in Jean's hold.

The ashbrown raised a hand in greeting. 'Yo!' he said with a small smile. ‘Pardon me.’

In the other hand, Jean Kirstein held his zirconium blade against the man's neck.

'Okay, blondie,' Jean said to the woman. 'You let my partner go or things might get messy over here.'

'Bertolt,' said Annie in a quiet voice, her blue eyes flashing dangerously between them. 'I told you to stay in your room.'

The man wheezed, struggling to breathe. Though Eren could see no physical injury on him. The tall man broke into an apologetic smile. 'Sorry, Annie. I thought you were in… trouble.'

Annie grimaced, putting a hand to her forehead.

'Bertolt, you need to trust me. I told you I can take care of this.'

'Yeah, by hurting someone again?' Bertolt asked, chiding her with a sharp, reproving look. He broke into a fit of coughs, and Jean tightened his grip on the captive.

Jean scoffed and looked at Annie.

'Hey, sorry to interrupt your lovers' squabble, but I am trying to negotiate here. Let that idiot go or I swear I'll cut this giant's throat.'

Annie glared at him.

'Zirconium is for cutting machines. Not human beings... He is a civilian. Let him go, you idiot.'

Jean gave her a condescending look. 'Sweetie, that suicidal bastard you are threatening over there may have scruples about involving civilians. But not me.'

Eren watched the exchange, open-mouthed. He saw the cold callousness slip away from Annie. There was a quiet desperation now.

'Let him go,' she tried again, her fingers clenching around the knife in her hand.

Jean snorted.

'Where’s the magic word? You forgot to add 'please'.'

'Bertolt is sick. Release him. Please.'

'Oh yeah? You expect to get pity from me?' Jean asked, considering the man in his arm hold. 'So, what's he suffering from? Flu? Hay fever? Haemorrhoids?'

Annie turned to the hostage and met the tall man's stare. She looked long at him, gauging the way his chest rose and fell. Her smouldering gaze returned to Jean.

'Lung cancer,' she replied. 'You know... the one _without_ a cure.'

There was a heavy silence.

To be frank, Jean hadn't expected that answer. He blinked in surprise, looked at his captive and whatever caustic retort was supposed to come out of his mouth never came. Well, that made his choice of a hostage morally ambiguous.

Great. Now they were in a deadlock.

If he released the man, the blondie had the upper hand in their situation. With a knife at her disposal and standing in such proximity to Jaeger, Jean didn't want to run that risk. But if Jean didn't release the tall man, he was sure his hostage would choke to death, and Hell, without a doubt, would reserve the deepest, darkest corner in its Tartarus womb just for Jean. He could imagine the demons stirring the waiting cauldron, anticipating his arrival.

It was Eren who broke the deadlock. The brunet shook his head.

'Let him go. It’s fine, Jean.'

The ashbrown bit back a scowl. He wanted to protest. He wanted to throw morals out of the window. But for once, it was easier to let someone else make that decision for him. And because they were peacekeepers, because they were honour bound fuckin' PeaceCorps, Jean did as he was told.

Giving Eren a reluctant nod, Jean Kirstein released his hostage.

 

 

 

 

 

Neon lights hung outside the pub. There was the sound of glasses clinking, low laughter and smooth jazz playing downstairs. Levi frowned at the distraction, at the hubbub of voices below them. The red-haired woman made an impatient sound as she forced his face straight.

'Quit moving, _hermano_. These stitches are not easy to remove,' she said, her fingers working their way through his raven hair.

Levi nodded and stilled, allowing her to raise a pair of tweezers. He was glad that she was wearing scrubs and gloves.

'Did you sterilise them?' Levi asked the woman, motioning towards the tweezers and scissors in her hands.

'Of course, you criticón. Now stay put. I don't want to gouge your eye out accidentally.'

Isabel hummed a lullaby as she washed and dabbed the paper towel over the stitches on his forehead. Now that Levi thought about it, she was increasingly becoming like a mother day by day. She used the tweezers to lift the knot of the first suture and watched the slight discomfort pass over his face.

'We could get a doctor to remove these, you know,' said Izzy, cutting the first string.

Levi did not agree.

'Too risky. The lesser people who know my face, the better.'

'Alright. But I'm warning you. I’m not a professional and this will hurt. Are you sure?'

Levi nodded.

'Good. Now, close your eyes, Rivaille.'

Levi looked up at her, a crease forming in his eyebrows. 'That's not needed. You think I haven't handled pain before, Izzie?'

'I'm not asking for you, _hermano_. Your eyes are distracting.'

Levi smirked and complied, pressing his eyes shut.

He wished he hadn't. Because every time, he allowed the darkness to consume him, Levi found himself travelling back to some point in the time-space continuum. A place of the past. A place he had vowed not to return to.

And yet there he was, back in the apartment of the helumbary. He walked through the front door and found Krobe waiting for him in the corridor. The mecha dog looked mighty displeased with him, gave a grumpy bark and Levi knew there could only be three reasons for the Rottweiler pup to be annoyed with him. He had either forgotten to refill its oil tank or forgotten to put out metal scraps in its feeding bowl or and (he hoped this one wasn't really true)— Eren was here.

As he ventured deeper into the apartment, he found a trail of clothes, confirming his worst suspicions.

A shirt.

His pants.

A tanktop.

Levi gave a low growl at the mess, picking up each of the garments industriously.

The happy trail led to his immaculate bedroom. Levi opened the door and found the brunet sitting prostrate on the bed with nothing but his boxers on. When Levi appeared in the doorway, Eren sat up straight, chin high, neck and collarbones exposed, placing his right fist over his heart. The teenager stared at a point on the wall, a fierce determination settling in his expression, exuding calm and focus. As if he'd spotted a guerrilla bot in the distance and was vowing to exterminate it.

'What are you doing, Jaeger?' Levi asked, knowing well he wasn't going to like the answer.

'Eren Jaeger, PeaceCorp 104th Squadron has graduated class today, sir! And he will be joining your squad from next week.'

There was a pride in his tone. Levi was caught between being impressed and amused by it.

Levi walked over to the imbecile.

'Mm,’ he hummed. ‘Well done. But that doesn't explain why you're sitting naked on my bed, trooper.'

Eren avoided the older man's grey, slanted eyes. His Adam's apple bobbed, hesitating, and the boy swallowed the lump in his throat, keeping to his stoic pose. The air was cool, his nipples delectably pert from the prolonged exposure. 

'Eren Jaeger is also an adult now. He turned eighteen three months ago,' the brunet announced.

There was a strained silence.

'And?' Levi prompted pensively.

Eren went rigid.

'My soul is ready, sir!'

Levi stuffed his hands into the pockets of his blazer and suppressed the urge to smile. He lowered his head, till their eyes met. Eren baulked at the sudden closeness. Levi watched him long, an unspoken challenge to see who broke the staring contest first. Eren held on obstinately in a curiously brave but futile battle. Because when it came down to giving the stink eye, the Corporal was unmatched. Levi didn't know whether it was the discomfort of sitting on his bed or the chill of the air conditioning, but Eren finally gave a shiver, goosebumps running the length of his arms, and he blinked first. The game was up before the brat could even know it.

Levi smirked and pressed the clothes into the arms of the naked teen.

'You’re a hundred years too early. And word of advice, if you break into my apartment again, I _will_ castrate you.'

And he left the room, leaving the young peacekeeper to wallow in that threat.

 _'Hermano_ , you there?'

'Rivaille,' he heard someone call his name.

Levi opened his eyes and was startled to find himself in the present. He found Isabel watching him worriedly. She held up the tweezers and scissors.

'It's done,' the redhead said, putting away her implements. 'By the way, Farlan dropped a message some time ago. He says the syndicates have agreed to have an audience with you. He asked if you can make it tonight.'

Levi glanced past her and glimpsed at the reflection in the dresser's mirror.

'Yes,' he said, a grim twist to his mouth. ‘My soul is ready.’

 

 

 

_Can never seek, once dead in sins, and lost;_

_Atonement for himself, or offering meet,_

_Indebted and undone, hath none to bring,_

_Behold me then: me for him, life for life_

_I offer: on me let thine anger fall._

_Paradise Lost, Book III_

 

* * *

 


	38. Only a Machine

 

 

Chapter-38- Only a Machine

~.~

 

 

There are moments in one's life, which you wish you could return to. Not to change the natural course of events. Not to relive that moment of euphoria of getting something done right. Nor perhaps to face the numbing sadness of failure again. A broken heart. Lost friendship. A Fluid Dynamics paper done wrong. Because people made mistakes all the time, didn't they? 

But none of those reasons warranted a time turner. You wouldn't want to turn time to remember the faces left behind. Nor for sentiment: to preserve that precious moment in a snow globe and forever gaze upon it in ardor. Time was like a yearbook photograph with the bad haircut. Just accept it as a given.

So, why would you go back at all?

Perhaps, to pay attention. To notice the things that slipped past because you were too wrapped up in your own world (or was it worlds?) to take notice.

Eren wished he had a time machine just for that. Even if the time machine was Doctor Who’s telephone booth, he would still take that chance. Go into a TARDIS, turn back time and pay attention. To the people around him. To the things they said. Because people were always saying things, you know. To your face, behind your back and between the lines.

And the most important words were to be found _between_ those lines. Unsaid. Unrealised.

He remembered sitting at the Training Corps table years ago, surrounded by his peers of the 104th Squadron. Being a PeaceCorp was all he used to think about back then. And he figured it must have been the same for the others. There was Marco Bott, Thomas Wagner, Frank, Mina Carolina, Hannah and of course, her.

Eren had been given detention and cleaning duty the day before. Scrub the halls, mop the greasy floors, clean the firing ranges, wipe the smog crusted windows and rest of the mule work. All because he had mouthed off in the presence of Keith Shadis and complained about the quality of Titan's gruel dinner. Keith Shadis had sent him to his bunker without supper. The next day, Eren Jaeger found the detention order with a tedious list of chores. If Keith Shadis had hoped to break his spirit, the man didn't succeed in that objective. Because little did he know, Eren Jaeger had an unbreakable spirit. The boy repented and did his chores with enthusiasm and vigour. Except the troublemaker in his course of sorting out Keith’s office, found a globe on the Sergeant's table. A replica of Earth. A blue green world that he had not expected to find in the personal effects of their loud-mouthed sergeant.

Eren, being Eren, had smuggled it out. He showed off the globe to his trainee classmates. He was pretty sure Keith Shadis would kill him in a hundred painful ways when the man discovered the globe to be missing. He was sure that a certain saturnine guardian of his would kill him too, if he ever heard about the misdemeanour. Probably in a thousand more creative ways. Because no one in their right mind would steal from Keith Shadis. And because no one was stupid enough to piss off Lieutenant Levi. Not unless you were Eren, of course.

'So, this is Earth?' Marco asked in bewilderment, rolling the globe in its handle. 'This is where you come from, Eren?'

Eren gave a peachy nod.

'Yep. That's my place, alright.'

Marco looked at the orb, mesmerized.

'You were right, Eren. It is blue. So blue...'

'Those are the oceans, Freckles,' Eren quipped with a smile. 'The Pacific, the Atlantic, the Arctic, Indian—'

'Wait. What are oceans?' asked Thomas.

Eren was taken aback by the question. 'Whoa, whoa. Thomas, hold on. You haven't heard of oceans? They are water bodies that cover seventy percent of my planet.'

'What's in them?' asked Frank.

'Like I said, man, water. It's all water. Some places have coral reefs, some have ice. And it's deep. There are whales, sharks, tortoises, dolphins, manta rays, squids and heck, so many creatures we haven't even discovered yet. It is leagues deep, people. Ships have sunk to its very bottom, you know.'

He saw the puzzled expressions on their faces.

'There are things living in the water? Creatures?' asked Mina. 'No way! Isn't that um, dangerous? We have bred sharks only in captivity on Titan.'

Eren laughed. 'C'mon, guys. Don't you have oceans here?'

Marco Bott shook his head.

'We have hydrocarbon lakes and frozen ice glaziers. But that's just methane. Nothing can survive in them. A powerhouse of fuel. Not living creatures.'

Eren frowned and picked up a glass of water on the table. He looked through the sparkling liquid.

'Then, where does your water come from?'

'That is from the underground, Jaeger. Seriously, did you never pay attention in class? We have aqueducts drilling into the liquid layer under Titan's surface.'

Eren frowned at the water in his glass.

'I still don't get it...'

Frank gave a snort.

'Kid is lying. I don't believe a word of his,' said the boy. 'He is trying to pull the wool over our eyes, folks.'

Eren shot the boy a dirty look. 'Oh, come on, Frank. I’m not lying. Even little kids know these facts in my world. There are oceans back in my world. Just the way, there are mountains,' he proceeded to rotate the globe and show them the Alps, the Himalayas and the Rocky Mountains at each turn. He tapped the surface of the globe, his face lighting up— literally beaming— as he spoke. His enthusiasm was infectious and even Frank had to relent that the boy might be telling the truth. Eren's attention wavered to the quiet girl who sat at the end of the table. 'Hey Annie, back me up, will you?'

Annie sat beside Mina. She turned and loured at him.

'I don't back anyone, Jaeger,' she grunted. 'You're on your own in this ridiculous crusade of enlightenment.'

'Oh, come on.'

Annie gave a small smile.

'Besides, Jaeger, aren't you running late for your lunch date?'

'What?' Eren's eyes flickered to his wrist watch. Ice queen was right. It was already one pm.

'Aw shit, he's gonna kill me,' Eren muttered under his breath as he darted out of his seat. He began picking up his belongings, getting his papers in a file. Eren realised a little late that all eyes of the assembled were on him, studying his reaction. 'What?' he piped obtusely.

'Jaeger, didn't you hear what Leonhart said? You just admitted that your weekly meetings with the Lieutenant are like a lunch date,' Marco remarked, freckled nose going red with second hand embarrassment.

'Hell no. Oh come on, guys. So NOT a date. I'm just delivering status reports to my guardian.'

He heard the snort from the end of the table.

Annie rolled her blue eyes.

'Yeah, right. And I'm the Queen of Atlantis,' mumbled Annie as she returned to her meal. 'Status reports, my arse.'

The table broke into peals of laughter. Marco Bott hid a coquettish smile behind a hand while Thomas wacked Eren on his back, giving him a thumbs-up.

'Seriously, guys,' Eren sighed. 'Like I said, it's not a lunch date! Levi is my officially sanctioned guardian and that's it! Who the heck would want to date that pokerface?'

Truth be told, it was always... _always_ a lunch date.

Eren liked to think it was.

What it was to Levi, he never got to ask the other man.

 

 

 

 

 

Eren watched as Annie tied the last knot to their binds. Jean had surrendered. Their zirconium blades had been confiscated. The brunet and the ash brown sat with their backs to each other, hands tied together in the narrow space between their spines. Annie had not used rope, relying instead on a long LAN cable from the wiring closet. Having secured the cable with three knots that would have made even a band of girl scouts proud, the blonde woman stood up and surveyed them with her tranquil, blue gaze. Her one hand still held on to the dagger though how inclined she was to use it, Eren couldn't say.

Her attention was entirely fixed on him.

Eren stared at her wordlessly.

He still wished... that it was anyone else but her. A doppelganger that went by the same name. Because the Annie Leonhart he knew would never whore her soul out to the State, to the same people she hated with all her being.

'What are you going to do with us, Annie?' he asked.

She didn't answer him. Instead, she crossed her arms over her over-sized plus shirt and her eyes met Eren's in diffidence. There was a strange look in them, incomprehensible to decipher as always. But there was also a pain hidden deep within, beyond the layers of indifference.

'Annie,' Eren tried to reason with her. 'I don't know what deal you made with them. But they're not gonna come through. They've fucked my life over, and they'll do the same to you.'

She watched him in silence. Her attention shifted to the tall man sitting at the foot of the basement stairs. Bertolt had his head, huddled in his arms. The man was still coughing, still in pain. She had urged him to leave, but Bertolt had stayed, persevering to stay by her side. Only to make sure she didn't do anything reckless. Only to make sure she didn't hurt them.

'Do you know what his prognosis is?' she asked Eren, her voice a faint whisper.

At his silence, Annie gave a bitter smile.

'Fifty percent. That's like God tossing a coin up in air. And leaving it to his whims and fancy. Fifty percent, Eren. How do you fight that kind of shitty luck?'

Eren watched her, unafraid and determined to hold her attention.

'If a cure is what you need, let me help you, Annie,' he insisted. 'We will find a way. Trust me—'

Annie turned repulsed and knelt before him.

'Eren, for the last time, just shut up, will you?'

'Annie—'

'No, you listen to me, Jaeger! The State knows everything. Every weakness and every deep, dark secret that any of its people might be stupid enough to harbour. And we're just pawns who can allow ourselves to be manipulated that way. Because Titan prevails. In the end, it will always fucking prevail,' she paused, struggling to keep her cool. Hands went up to her hair, and she ruffled them in anguish. 'We... we can only hold on to the little thread of hope we've got.'

There was a strained silence.

'Because we're only human?' said Eren, breaking into a small smile.

'Yeah,' Annie acknowledged, running a hand over her face. 'Because we're human. Because we are not machines, though I wish we were. Because machines wouldn't love, wouldn't get attached and wouldn't make mistakes,' she said, turning away.

She walked to the basement stairs and placed a hand over the tall man's shoulders.

'Let's go, Bertolt. I need to call Lawrence.'

Jean, who had been hitherto quiet, gave a frantic tug against the bonds.

'Hey blondie,' he called to their captor.

She turned to look at him.

Jean looked at her askance, hazel eyes murderous and angry.

'You know, I’m not the religious kind. I don't have an opinion on God either, but I do have an opinion on what people should do and should not be doing. Are you seriously going to sacrifice two souls for the price of one?' he asked. 'How is that even fair? That's cheap, sweetheart. Real cheap. And I’m anything but cheap.'

Annie paused and turned to her partner. She reached into the collar of her shirt and drew out the golden key. She removed the string over her head and pressed it into the hands of Bertolt, who looked at it confusedly. 'Keep it safe,' she told him and told Bertolt to go on ahead.

The giant looked disconcerted.

'Annie, you promised you won’t hurt them.'

'Yes,' she said impatiently. 'No more blood on my hands, I remember. Leave now,’ she said testily. ‘I will be right behind you. Trust me, Bert.'

Bertolt nodded in reluctance and giving the two captives an apologetic look, he staggered out of the basement. They heard his footsteps dwindle into the recess of the house. Annie Leonhart turned to Jean and she gave a beguiling smile.

'Fair? How foolish. The rules of fair do not apply in love and war...' she turned to Eren and stared long at him. 'I'm sorry, Eren. Don't hold it against me.'

She raised her hand, reaching for the switch. The light from the bulb fizzled out, and Annie left, slamming the door shut behind her, drowning the two in the darkness of the basement.

 

 

 

 

The darkness resembled the movie hall of Mardis Theatre. There was no horror movie running on the screen. Not when they found themselves living in one.

'Well, this is nice, Jaeger,' said Jean, voice dripping with sarcasm. 'You and me stuck in a dark room. And we've got the kinks too. If this weren't enemy territory, I might get ideas, you know. If only we had those aroma candles around and a Jacuzzi, I'd say ' _Hell yeah, bring it on! Jean approves_!''

Jean struggled with the knots again, yanking at them roughly. He dug his nails at them, scratched the plastic of the cable but to no avail.

If the ashbrown had been hoping for an argument, he didn't get it. They were seated in the middle of the basement, close to the rubble of the workbench.

'Hey Jaeger. What rocks your boat? Ylang ylang or jasmine? Or are you 'skip the foreplay and hit the bed' type?'

Eren felt a nudge at the bonds again.

'That goddam bitch, she took our zirco too,' Jean cursed mildly under his breath. 'I _told_ you this was a bad idea. I told you but, of course, you _never_ listen!'

Eren didn't answer, feeling the hurt in his chest swell. _No, don't think about that. Don't go there yet._

There was a pause, and the brunet heard Jean exhale deeply.

'We're in deep shit, aren't we?' Jean finally asked.

Eren suppressed a smile. The young peacekeeper gave a small nod eventually and realised late that Jean probably couldn't see it in the darkness. Especially with their backs to each other.

'Hey,' came Kirstein's voice, sounding concerned for the first time. 'You with me, suicidal bastard?' Jean asked him. 'Don't doze off on me now, you punk.' Eren felt his partner struggle through his bonds, his hands reaching for Eren's, long fingers grazing over Eren's knuckles, trying to lend them life. They were warm in their touch as Jean tried to stir him into speaking. 'You're awfully quiet. Not like you at all. In fact, I don't ever remember you _not_ screaming your head off at me. Remember the quarterfinals from school? I swear I've never seen anyone pull a stunt like that one. Only a moron like you would think of doing a body slam in a boxing match. You almost gave that Irish coach of yours a heart attack. Poor bloke Coach Finlay. I heard he quit teaching.'

Eren gave a haunted smile at the memory.

Jean made a humming sound, deciding to walk farther down memory lane.

'Or that time I beat you at the ice hockey tryouts. God, it was fun watching your mom humiliate you in public. Good times, man. Good times.'

Jean didn't know what to make of his taciturn companion.

'Jaeger. Hey. What's wrong?'

Eren didn't say anything for a long while. He struggled to find a voice and when he did, it sounded unlike his own. Hoarse and rasping. An alien voice of someone else.

'...I'm fine,' he managed to say.

There was a pause.

'Liar. I’m not dense. I've known you since forever. Don't give me bullshit like that.'

Eren didn't say anything but bit back a reluctant smile. True, they _had_ known each other for years. And yet, friendship had always been off the table. Why was that?

'What's wrong?' Jean asked again. 'Did something happen? Are you... hurt?'

Eren shook his head, trying to keep those thoughts away. 'Nothing,' Eren finally said. He clenched his fingers tightly and gave Jean a fist bump where their hands met. 'Let's concentrate on finding a way out of this.'

Jean agreed, relieved to see him speaking.

'You think we should call Gale for backup?' the taller man asked.

Eren didn't seem overtly fond of the idea. He scoffed.

'And call who? The Titans? I don't know who is on our side anymore, Jean. I don't even know what being a PeaceCorp means anymore.'

There was a lull in conversation.

'Are we giving up?' Jean asked. 'Are you telling me to rot away here? What the hell happened to the distress signal, Eren? What the hell happened to the guy who never gave up?'

There was no answer.

'I asked you a question, Eren.'

'Jean... I didn't want to pull you into this. I swear. It's my deal.'

'YOUR deal? We are partners, aren’t we? Don't patronise me and have a bit of faith.'

Eren glowered in the darkness.

'Jean. This is my problem to fix. Not yours. You really shouldn't have come.'

There was another of those awkward silences. Eren could hear Jean sulking, those lean eyebrows knit together, if Eren had to hazard a guess.

'So, what are they gonna do with us?' Jean asked.

Eren took in a deep breath, the smell of sawdust still lingering in the stagnant basement.

'Send us to Utgard, I think. That's the place they send all political prisoners and renegade soldiers. No one has ever managed to make it out alive. Forget parole and don’t even think about breaking out. Unless you have a death wish.'

There was a pause.

'A death wish, huh?'

Eren felt the taller man slump against his back. Jean sank his head onto Eren's shoulder, settling himself rather peacefully in the spot between Eren's clavicle and neck. The brunet felt Jean’s hair tickle against his neck.

Jean sighed.

'There are so many things I wanted to do.'

Eren decided to humour him.

'Oh yeah? Like what?' asked Eren.

'Sky diving.'

Eren snorted.

'That ought to be worth seeing. It'd be a miracle if the plane managed to lift off with your big head inside it, Kirstein. What else?'

Jean mumbled something.

'What was that?' Eren prompted.

'Dance in the rain,' Jean said audibly this time, sounding embarrassed at the confession. ‘Gene Kelly style.’

Eren snickered.

'Fuck, that's cute. Anything more to your bucket list?'

'Yeah. Just... one more.'

'And what's that?' Eren pressed.

'Just wanted to kiss this guy I seem to have hopelessly fallen in love with. Screw him, clueless idiot that he is.'

Eren smirked.

'Who? Connie? I thought you already smooched him.'

Silence reigned.

'Fuck you, Jaeger.'

'Yeah, ditto, horseface.'

Jean grew uncannily quiet. And Eren could hear the unevenness in his breathing.

'Eren,' he called.

'Yeah?' the brunet prompted, straining against his bonds.

'There’s something I gotta tell you.'

Eren didn't find out what it was. Because he heard a sound. So familiar that it sent his pulse racing. Eren sat up rigid, unsettling the ashbrown and knocking Jean over to his side.

'Did you hear that?' Eren asked.

'Huh— Hear what?'

'Sshh.'

'Hey, don't sshh me,' Jean cut back indignantly.

'Dammit, horseface. Can you shut up for like ten seconds? Do you need to have the last say in every conversation?'

And then, they both heard it. The sound of a whine. A mechanical whine. They looked towards the twilight lit window and saw the dark outline of a face peep into it. Eren recognized it instantly.

'Is that...?' Jean broke off in disbelief.

'Krobe!' Eren hissed, relief flooding him. 'KROBE! Am I glad to see you!'

The droid dog gave a low woof and squeezed through the opening of the glass panes. It broke into the basement, leaping off the window sill and landed on the dusty floor with a dull, heavy thud. Having spotted its current master, the droid ambled over to Eren, barking at him furiously.

_The things I do for you, buster._

Eren hushed it, his smile growing wider.

'I swear to God. I take back every insult I ever made. You are the best dog anyone can ask for,' Eren tugged at the bonds on his hands. 'You think you can do something about these, robodog?'

The two peacekeepers watched as Krobe got to work instantly. It crawled into the space between them and gnawed at the cables, putting to good use the years of mischief and harassment it had caused to cardigans, shirts and other innocent casualties of Eren's wardrobe. The bonds finally came undone and once free, Eren scooped up Krobe into the fold of his arm, holding it tight to his chest. The droid dog snuggled its metal snout into his jacket, giving an uncharacteristic whine of content.

Eren smiled and ran a hand over its neck. Krobe spun its head upwards and gave him a questioning glance. The brunet knew what it was asking him. He pressed his mouth to the arch of its neck and nodded in assurance.

'Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Thanks to you. You have me in your eternal servitude, you megalomaniac.'

If droids could look snobby then Krobe did put on its best impression of vanity.

Eren tickled its ears in amusement.

'How the hell did you even know where I was?'

The dog sniffed and stuck its snout towards his watch.

Eren followed its line of sight and blinked. 'Gale? You can talk to Gale? Seriously? And how long have you been canoodling with the Network?'

And then, looking at Krobe, he remembered who it was that had raised Krobe all these years. Of course, what else did he expect from the spawn of Satan?

 

_Krobe can do everything save for a lap dance._

_You two are the bickering, adorable shitheads of my life._

_So Krobe tells me you guys made up._

_By the way, I got you company._

_Eren... stop antagonising my dog and listen to me._

_Listen to me, brat._

_Listen to me._

_Eren._

  

Because people were always saying things, you know. To your face, behind your back and between the lines. And the most important words were to be found between those lines. Unsaid. Unrealised.

Eren stared long at the droid, a glimmer of realisation appearing in his eyes. He finally understood, latent and delayed though that understanding was. He gave a sniffle, pulling Krobe into a tight hug.

The dog gave a bark and licked its metallic tongue over Eren's hand as if reminding him they'd better hurry. Eren broke out of his reverie and nodded, feeling as if he'd just woken up from the deep recesses of a bathtub.

Meanwhile, Jean had made a hasty search around the basement, searching for their zirconium blades. He kicked at the rubble of the workbench, looked under a canvas drape but came up with nothing.

All he found was a screwdriver which he pocketed for lack of a better weapon.

'Jean, we better go,' Eren hissed at his partner, 'I don't know who this Lawrence guy is, but I don't think we want to stick around for introductions.'

 

 

 

 

When they had climbed safely out of the basement cellar, Jean pointed to the woods that stretched out from the backyard of Annie Leonhart's home. Eren nodded and followed Kirstein, both jumping across the fence. They took to the woods, feeling the cool breeze of the night in their faces. The elder trees ran through the length of the docks, lurching away and burrowing deeper into the city. They would probably reach Chamberlain's Chapel, the Avalon gates at this rate. The branches cut across their sleeves, jabbed into their ribs but the young peacekeepers kept running. The ground was soft and muddy at spots, but they kept running as far as their lungs could carry them. And just as Jean pointed to a faraway point, where the trail through the woods reached a clearing on a highway road and they could hear the first sounds of cars and traffic, Eren stopped. He stopped before reaching the vantage point. He stopped because he remembered what he was missing.

The noise of passing cars and speakers blaring hip hop were a low murmur in the woods.

Jean was surprised to hear the footsteps behind him dwindle down.

He turned back to see Eren standing glued to his spot and panting for breath.

Jean gave him a puzzled look.

Eren shook his head.

'Crap. The key... I can't leave... without the key. I need to go back,' he said breathlessly.

Jean looked at him incredulous.

'Are you nuts? The chick's calling for backup, Eren,’ Jean hissed.

Eren's eyes were manic in their determination, and he bit his lower lip.

'It's the only way I can go back, Jean. It's the only way— _ouch_ , what the hell, Krobe. What the hell did you do that for?'

The dog had bit into his arm, sinking its sharp incisors into his palm, deep enough to leave marks.

'OUCH! Krobe, NO!' Eren tried to prod the dog to its senses.

The droid released his hand and proceeded to jump out of the cocoon of Eren's warmth. And without so much as an explanation, it scuttled into the woods, running on all fours... back in the direction of Annie's house.

Eren tried to follow but Jean caught on to the sleeve of his jacket.

'Hell no, I'm NOT letting you go back there!' Jean vowed. 'We don't have anything to fend for ourselves. Don't be reckless.'

Eren turned to him and snarled.

'Jean, let GO!'

'Nope. Can't do that, Jaeger.'

'Lemme go!'

'NO!'

'I need to get back Krobe.'

'It's just a machine, Eren.'

Eren gave a guttural cry.

'It's not just a machine, JEAN! Don't you get it?'

Jean looked at him, perplexed.

'Get... what?'

'It's the only thing I've got. Of him. I'm a half Titan, half Earthborn. There is no place for me in either of these two worlds. The one place I had, it's gone too. All I've got is Krobe. Stupid fucking dog and a Polaroid. Don't you dare call it just a machine. Do you have any idea how much he loved that thing? Because... that's what he does. He pushes away all the things he loves and goes off to fucking die. I am not leaving him behind!'

Eren didn't even know what 'him' referred to anymore.

Jean watched the brunet look back towards Leonhart’s house in despair. Eren yanked himself free and had hardly taken two strides forward.

And that's when they heard it.

The sound of heavy footsteps and a thunderous metallic screech. Of pistons, of gears, of nothing human. Like the scratching of nails against a blackboard.

'What the _hell_  was that?' Jean asked, feeling the hairs on his neck stand up. The air went still, the woods turned as quiet as a cemetery. The sound of civilization drowned in that ghastly shriek. They heard the ground tremble. Something was coming their way.

There was another screeching sound, and they saw it break into the horizon. Something black, large and monstrous. Eren recognised it instantly. Scalpel arms, humanoid and a mass of black metal.

'I don't believe it,' Eren said, wide eyed. 'No… No way!'

'What in the world—' Jean said, hazel eyes transfixed in horror. '—is that?'

'It's the Armored Titan,’ Eren found himself saying. He stared at the invader, unable to look away.

‘I sent it back... I swear I did! I demolished gateway twenty-three. I saw it get sucked by the void.'

Jean watched the blot against the landscape, a monstrous reality heading through the woods stealthily towards them.

'Are we screwed?'

'Yeah,' Eren said, panic setting in. 'We're screwed big time. Shit, we don't even have the blades or the manoeuvring gear.'

The two peacekeepers stumbled back, watching the machine gain pace towards them.

Jean's hand tugged at Eren's sleeve again.

Adrenalin surging through his body, Eren barely registered how Jean caught hold of his neck, sweaty fingers lacing through his brown hair. 'You're gonna hate me for this… but you know what? I'm tired of waiting,' the ashbrown said to him, and without a word of warning, Jean closed his eyes and lowered his head to kiss Eren hard on his open mouth. Jean Kirstein didn't linger. There was no time to linger. Jean pulled away quickly, licking his lips, while a wolfish grin remained plastered to his face. His hazel eyes fluttered open, catching Eren's shock in them, and he nodded as if his inner pheromones had been appeased just for the moment.

'Well, that takes care of one wish,' Jean whispered, pointing determinedly to his right. 'I'm taking this way. Split! Now!' he said, shoving Eren to the left.

Eren stared as his partner disappeared down the dirt path, his olive-green jacket merging with the foliage of the trees.

'Fucking _unbelievable_ ,' Eren muttered under his breath before deciding to skid down a slope in the terrain.

He kept to the left.

Just like Jean told him to.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 


	39. Life for Life

 

Chapter-39- Life for Life

~.~

 

Jean didn't know if it was the pheromones, hormones, Eremones (No, he did _not_ just give a name to it) but whatever the hell it was, it had put him on a high— a ridiculous, soaring high. The high kept him on his toes and kept his heart pulsing. His adrenalin pumped; endorphins coursed through his system, and every one of his senses tingled, remaining on high alert. As he bolted through the mossy trail of the woodland, there was a cacophony of voices in his head, caught in a debate, trying to outdo one another in the scrummage. Chief among them was— his conscience. It screamed at him.

'You kissed him! You kissed Eren Jaeger! Oh Jean, _why_ Jean!' the voice reproached him. 'You know the boy is married! It's adultery! Infidelity! You've turned him into an unfaithful. Oh sin, oh woe!'

Funny how that righteous voice was not slating him for batting for both sides.

And then, there was the other voice in his head— Mephistopheles, the devil. The shadier side of his conscience, which sounded oddly like his high school boxing coach with a trombone voice and a raunchy personality.

'Ha! Yes, he did. Took his own _sweet_ time too, didn’t he?' the voice addressed him with nothing less than pride. 'So, laddie. How goes it? How was the kiss? Good? Did it live up to all the hype?'

Jean frowned at the question.

What did kissing Eren Jaeger really feel like? Sure, he had startled his partner and forced that lip lock on him. But even in that one fleeting moment of intimacy, despite cornering Eren like a deer caught before headlights, Jean felt a string of feelings he’d not expected to find there.

Bittersweet.

Confused and feverish.

And taboo.

A whole boatload of taboo.

Suddenly, all those idiotic conversations in the past, their squabbles, laughter, pranks and even touching each other’s arms, shoulders, wrists took on a different meaning. Jean didn’t know where these feelings had begun, but yes—they were here now, camped and settled in like that one annoying roommate you can’t seem to get rid of, and there was very little Jean Kirstein could do about how he felt.

And the kiss had been the final seal to his undoing.

Jean stopped in his tracks, breathless. His lips parted to gulp down mouthfuls of air, and he let slip a bark of laughter. Because he remembered.

Remembered the warmth of those lips against his, the bump of their noses and the mingling of their breaths.

'Kiss was great,' he said aloud, trying to drown the voices in his head. 'Fucking perfect.'

The shadier side of his conscience gave a wolf whistle.

'You know, you could have put some tongue into it.'

Jean grit his teeth and nodded.

'Next time. Maybe next time,' he mumbled out loud.

Provided Eren didn’t punch the daylights out of him. Provided they did survive the monster chasing them.

 _Please_. Just please, let there _be_ a next time.

He glanced back at the trail behind him. There was no sign of the Titan invader following him.

Jean clamped down on the voices, hushing them. His gaze roved through the woods, seeking a survey point that would suit his needs. There were plenty of birches, but they wouldn’t hold him. He finally found a worthy one— an oak with a gnarled bole. Jean stalked over to its foot and grabbed hold of the ridges. Without losing a moment, he tested them and then, sinking his sneaker into the trunk, he began the climb up with his bare arms.

He guessed all that training in Stonehess and the boxing ring did have its advantages.

He was halfway through, teetering fifteen feet vertical, when he began to feel the strain on his hands. His palms were red and scuffed, skin peeling, and Jean Kirstein was reminded of his childhood days, reminded of the old tree house back home.

'Great,' scoffed the lanky, tall college student. 'Never thought I'd still be climbing trees at my age. Guess my old man wouldn't be too proud. This is all your fault, Eren,' Jean muttered under his breath. 'The things I do for you, Jaeger. The things I do for you.'

When he reached the peak, Jean chose a branch that could hold his weight and lugged his body over it. Scrambling for cover, he pulled himself over the wood, folded his legs under him and sat down against the trunk. His breathing was laboured; sweat blurred his vision, and he tasted metal in his mouth.

The lack of the manoeuvring gear was biting. So was the loss of his zirconium blades. This was supposed to have been a movie night, _dammit._  

They really ought to have stuck with the horror movie. The Conjuring didn’t seem half bad compared to the monster tracking them.

Jean passed a harried glance over the landscape, looking out for the armoured Titan.

He didn't spot it, but he found something else.

A clearing at the western edge, electric fenced, and a bright, yellow sign under the looming shadow of a transmission tower. It bore the usual skull and bones. Plus, a warning.

 

DANGER  
HIGH VOLTAGE  
2000 V  
NO TRESPASSING

 

 

The wheels in Jean's head turned, churning ideas.

He glanced back down at the trail behind him. The woods remained dead silent. Nothing stirred; there was still no sign of the invader.

When Jean had said to split, he’d hoped for the Titan invader to choose him as a target. But the silence here, in this neck of the woods, spoke otherwise. Jean felt a dread seep into his very being. It chilled him, and he couldn’t help but worry about that dipshit partner of his.

No doubt, the invader had chosen the other path.

A dark cloud passed over Jean Kirstein's face.

If he was guessing right, Eremones had a universal effect on friends and foes alike.

 

 

 

 

Eren heard the war drum pound in his chest. He sat huddled under a cluster of boulders, his arms wrapped around his knees. A large boulder was all that offered him protection. He had crawled under it for cover, and he sat there, trying to formulate a plan. He couldn't believe it. That he was hiding like a kid. Like his six-year old cookie stealing self, hiding under the bed, hoping his mother wouldn't discover him. He could feel his sweat pooling underneath the jacket. He could be a sitting duck out here—

_There’s nothing cowardly about choosing your battles._

_Survival, Eren. That's your prerogative._

Eren smiled despite himself, thankful for the voice’s return. Even if it was just a voice from memory.

_Yes, sir._

_I know._

He took off his jacket and rolled it into a ball. His nails sank into the fabric, and he wiped his cold sweat into the shirt. In the grave quiet of the woods, his wristwatch buzzed.

Who was it—

Jean?

Eren peeked over the boulder, risking a glance around at the patch of woods. There were no signs of the black monstrosity. He burrowed inside again and risked switching the comm. on. Gale received the transmission.

There was a tense silence.

It wasn't Jean.

'Eren,' said the familiar voice of Annie Leonhart. 'Where are you?'

The brunet forced a laugh, a laugh which sounded hysterical even to himself. 'You expect me to give away my location? Why? So, you can carve me out like a Halloween Pumpkin?’ his eyes narrowed. ‘No way, ice queen. Not again!'

'Eren,' Annie chided him, her voice sounding strained and careworn. 'You can either surrender to me... or meet an old friend of ours. Trust me, Jaeger. You are better off choosing me.'

Eren felt his mouth twist, a crease forming in his brow.

'An old friend, huh?’ he repeated. ‘I've got a thing or two to say about old friends. Not gonna happen. Not until you decide to give back what's mine, Annie.'

'The key is wasted on you, Jaeger,’ she spoke through her teeth with forced restraint. ‘Your father was a genius. You don't even understand what the key can do. Surrender, Eren. Don't be difficult.'

'Surrender?' he cut back bitterly. 'Never!’

The line went quiet for a moment. Before she tried to reason with him again.

'I can talk to Lawrence and get your sentence commuted. Or do you want to end up like _him_?' she paused, her voice stabbing and blunt like cold ice. 'An unclaimed body in the morgue, that’s where he is. Do you want to wind up like your guardian, Eren? _Dead_?'

Here, she hit a nerve.

'My husband is _not_ dead,' Eren snapped into the link, his voice thrumming with tension and despair. 'He is alive; I know he is, and nothing you say will convince me otherwise, Annie. You don't know jack shit about Levi. He won't ever give up that easily, and neither will I.'

There was a shuffle of footsteps on the other end of the communication channel, and he heard Bertolt call for Annie in a panicked voice.

'It's your funeral,' the woman sniped at him, but she seemed oddly distracted.

Annie cut the transmission.

Eren was left to the sweeping silence again. His heart hammered in his chest, and though he’d sounded all barb and brave-heart a moment ago, his resilience dripped out from him. Eren squeezed into a small ball again, unsettling the dust and the weeds growing under the boulders. _You’re not dead_ , Eren whispered as if trying to assure himself. _You can’t be._  

He wasn't alone for long.

Just as Annie promised, the ‘old friend’ came for him.

_Clunk_

_Clunk_

_Thud_

Eren stilled, frozen in his spot. His eyes widened in horror. He could hear it arrive at the circle of boulders. A shadow fell over the land, and he could hear a mechanical whirr. He saw its silhouette creep over the grass, could see the humanoid head turn and scan the terrain, searching for him.

Eren went pale.

Thermosensors. What if it had thermosensors and did not rely on sight alone?

He would be a sitting duck.

 _Sshh_ , said the voice in his head. _Stay calm._

Eren nodded, duty-bound to that voice.

_Yes... sir._

There was a snap, the squashing of a twig. The hunk of metal teetered close to the ledge of boulders. Eren was having the second Frodo moment of his life. And this time, he didn't even have the ‘One ring to rule them all' universal gate key with him. The moment of terror seemed to pass, because the Titan machine swivelled its head and turned to leave.

Eren didn't realise that he’d stopped breathing.

He heard it retreat five steps back.

But the stillness in the air was interrupted by a sound. The Titan machine stopped in its tracks, having heard the sound too. Eren glared daggers at his wrist. His watch bleeped unceremoniously, drawing attention.

_Shit!_

Eren was not afforded the time to receive the call, because a scalpel arm swept through the pile of boulders.

The brunet rolled forward, ducking through the rain of stone and dust.

He looked back momentarily, and there it was.

The biggest droid he'd ever set eyes upon.

The Goliath to his David.

_Black it stood as Night_

_Fierce as ten Furies_

_Terrible as Hell_

_The monster moving onward came as fast_

_With horrid strides; Hell trembled as he strode_

_Book II, Paradise Lost_

At the sight of this marauder, Eren did what he was sure the Titan Army guidebook would never recommend.

He fled.

 

 

 

 

Eren made a wild dash through the shrubbery, climbing hastily down the descending slope. He scraped the skin of his knees, his shin. He bled through the chinos. He heard the machine break into a chase, and Eren cursed whoever it was that was calling him on Gale.

Jean's voice broke through the comm.

'Eren!'

Eren seethed, his blood boiling in his veins.

Of course! It had to be Jean effing Kirstein! Great timing as usual... that smug showboat!

Eren heard the machine pause and heard the unmistaken sound of jaws snapping open. He saw the glow of orange embers behind him. He rolled to his left just as a fireball hit the spot where he'd been running a few seconds before. The missile lit up a small bushfire that was sure to spread and alert the local fire department.

Whoa, fuck. They had upgraded the machine. He didn't remember any fire artillery the last time he'd fought the invader at the gates.

'Jaeger!' the voice on Gale called for him again.

Eren turned chaffed at his partner before breaking into a sprint again. 'Horseface! Can't talk. Got. fire. breathing. monster. on. my. tail,' he said between bursts of running.

He heard the smile in Jean's voice.

'Yeah, I can see that, Jaeger. Look up! To your right! Can you see the transmission tower?'

'The what?' Eren wheezed. He ducked as another fireball surged past his left. It had skirted past his sleeve, and he felt the heat raze him. He yelped and rubbed at the scorched sleeve. He looked up to his right and spotted it. The scaffolding tower of steel.

'Yeah, I can see it!' he muttered.

Jean's voice held a frantic edge.

'Lead ‘im there! I’ll be waiting.'

Lead him?

Lead what?

The fucking monster of doom? Balrog of Morgoth? The darkness of Khazad-dum?

Ha, easier said than done.

Eren glanced back and found the sleek black metal form still running at breakneck speed. The white trunks of birches did not obstruct it as its pitchfork arms cut clean through them. The machine was humanoid— had a torso, head and limbs just like him. And yet, it was no human. Nothing remotely close. Eren Jaeger turned to his right and took the detour, diving through the thick foliage. Twigs and branches grazed his skin, leaving cuts and drawing blood through his jacket, but he ran anyway, knowing the Titan invader would have a tougher time following him on this sunken course. Much to his surprise, the machine pursued him, its pace picking up steadily. It whipped through the woods, its steps like thunder bolts on the land. It snowballed its way through the trees, decimating anything and everything in its way.

Eren saw the light of the clearing, opening to the plains of the suburbs. There was a suburban ranch. A cow grazing peacefully in the distance. He broke into the clearing, his eyes blazing through the landscape searching for the ashbrown head. He found Jean near the electric fence, working frantically at one of the wooden posts. He had a screwdriver in hand, and he was fiddling with the charger on the electric fence.

It took the brunet a split second to understand.

He ran to the edge of the fence and turned around. He waited, panting and breathless, but he continued waiting for the Armored Titan to arrive.

It didn't disappoint.

The creaking mass of metal emerged out of the woodlands. It spotted Eren and moved towards him, taking long strides.

'Eren! Move out of the way!' Jean yelled from his spot.

Eren shook his head.

'Not yet!'

'Idiot! Get out of there!'

The Armored Titan lurched forward and lunged at him.

Eren took his chance, ducked and slipped through its legs.

The Titan slammed into the barbed wires of the fence. There was a minor twitch of sparks as it hit, nothing more. All the barrier managed to do was to hinder the machine’s movement, entangling it in its web. Titan’s soldier looked at its tangled legs as if the electrically charged fence were a minor inconvenience. It swatted away at the wires, uprooting wooden posts from their encroachments.

'Switch it on,' Eren barked at Jean. 'SWITCH IT ON, JEAN!'

The ashbrown pulled back, looking just as bewildered as him.

'It's on, Eren! The wires are live!'

'What—'

Eren's green eyes widened in realisation.

'It's the armour. Polyurethane. It’s insulating him!' Eren said in a frenzy. 'We need to expose the circuitry.'

Eren flexed his fingers, his eyes streaking across the flailing limbs of the Titan invader.

Jean's voice stopped him.

'Eren, no. Don’t you dare, suicidal bastard! You'll fucking die. It's a live circuit, you hear me? 2000 fucking Volts! Don't be insane!'

Eren seethed in the silence. They didn’t have the leisure of time. The Titan Goliath was almost free of the fencing.

And then he heard it.

A bark.

Something flashed past him. Something small and black. He watched as the droid dog dropped something into the grass and skittered past him, leaping and crash-diving into the black monstrosity before them. Krobe caught the invader's wrist and sank its teeth into the body of the Armored Titan. It ripped apart the insulating skin, chewed the layer out with a vengeance and exposed the circuitry below.

There was a crack of electricity, and Eren watched in horror as the currents enveloped them.

_No, no—_

Two thousand volts. It was enough to take down a giant. It was enough to wipe out the smaller droid caught in the wrestle of arms.

The Armored Titan opened its mouth and gave a harrowing screech.

It fell like the giant shadow it was. Taking the smaller form down with it. The woods of Sylvan County trembled as it fell.

Eren stared in anguish.

And there were the memories again.

Eren remembered waking up in the mess of sheets one morning. He had woken up to the faint light of Titan's dwarf sun streaking through the shutters. He had woken up to aching muscles, and the shivering feel of someone licking his toes. His nerve endings stirred and tingled; Eren Jaeger decided it wasn’t a particularly unpleasant feeling to wake up to. When he felt teeth graze on his toe, he let out a moan.

'Fuck, Levi, your mouth will be the death of me,' Eren mumbled, burying his head under the pillow. '—it’s like a blackhole.'

He heard the bathroom door creak open.

Eren turned his messy brown head and caught sight of the older man standing at the door, freshly showered and smelling exotic like soap and lavender. The raven-haired man cocked up an eyebrow.

'My mouth is what?'

Eren blinked twice and looked down to the foot of the bed.

And sure enough, there sat a droid dog at the foot, gnawing into Eren's big toe, slathering drool over it sumptuously.

'Aw man!' Eren bellowed, kicking wildly at the sheets and earning a yelp from Krobe. 'Seriously, Rivaille. Either the dog stays or I do. Choose one!'

Levi sauntered over to the disgruntled dog and picked it up in the fold of his arms. He coaxed the mutt to silence. Turning to Eren, Levi gave the younger a pointed look.

'You want me to choose?’ his guardian said. ‘Krobe. It will always be Krobe.'

 

 

_Behold me then: me for him, life for life_

_I offer: on me let thine anger fall._

 

 

Eren wobbled his way to it. To the convulsing carcass in the grass. The Armored Titan let out a steady trail of smoke. The smaller one looked insignificant next to it. So tiny and bruised.

'Krobe... no,' he croaked but the small machine dog lay supine on the ground.

'Come on, you stupid mutt. Talk to me.'

For the first time in the last eight years, Krobe did not have any biting remark to make. Made in the likeness of a Rottweiler puppy, Eren had always scorned it. The mutt that he had to compete with— for that one guy's attention.

Eren sank into the grass, looking at the twitching body. The convulsions finally ended, and the red light in the dog's eyes dimmed. The light faded, and Eren swept a hand over its small head, regardless of the electric sparks still wrecking their way through its body. He felt some sting him.

'C'mon, Krobe. Get up,' Eren whispered, his hand shaking.

The dog didn't reply.

'Don't you want to meet Levi again? I'll steal him from you, y'know. With my wiles and charms,' Eren's voice shook with the first wave of tremors.

There was no answer.

'Krobe?'

The machine lay lifeless.

'I'll sell you to the scrapyard, you stupid runt. Answer me!'

Nothing.

Eren heard the approach of Jean's footsteps, and the taller man placed a comforting hand over his shoulder.

Eren recoiled. 'I swear, horseface, if you call it a machine again—'

'Jaeger,' Jean cut in and stooped down to press something into Eren's hand. 'I take it back. It was more than a machine. More human than some folks in this world.'

Eren looked at his hand and found a golden key sitting on it.

He clenched his fingers around the key, around the memories, and wept a million tears.

The ashbrown peacekeeper wrapped his arms around Eren and pulled the boy into an air-tight hug. Eren didn’t resist and broke down in his arms, sobbing. It came to Jean's slow understanding that Eren and his Eremones were devoted to only one man.

And in the awkwardness of that embrace, they heard a siren wail in the night.

It had been a long night. A night of gains and losses.

 

 

 

Armin Arlert, part time student, part time saint, was rudely awoken by the sound of fierce rapping on his door. He had a terrible headache and the last thing he remembered about last night was Sasha and Connie singing the duet 'You're the one that I want' off key and making ridiculous faces at each other, which was a multitude of cringe worthy and embarrassing. Funny enough, with Connie and Sasha, one never felt like a third wheel.

If only he could say the same about Jean and Eren.

The two were standing outside in the corridor, looking like they'd just survived a hurricane. Eren stood worse-for-wear, slumped against the wall, face puffed, blood streaked, his jacket in tatters and face looking away. But Armin could see his shoulders shaking and were those... tears?

Armin looked at him in concern.

'What the hell happened to you two? Eren, buddy? Are you crying—'

But Jean pressed a finger to his lips and handed Armin a loosely wrapped bundle.

'Can you fix him?'

Armin gaped at the taller man before he looked down at the offering.

'Him? Who's him— ' the blond boy opened the bundle, and his eyes shot wide.

 

 

 

* * *

 


	40. Last Road Trip

 

 

Chapter-40- Last Road Trip

~.~

 

It was the wee hours of dawn and there was a trail of smoke exuding from the backyard of a grey single-storey house. Had it not been a disreputable neighborhood in the suburbs of Sylvan, there would have been raised eyebrows, curious visitors and speculation all around, seeking the source to all that smoke. But here in this vagrant society where anyone and everybody kept low profiles, no one questioned the fumes. The neighbors assumed that an early barbecue was on. And why they weren't invited to grilled chicken and steak remained their only complaint in the matter.

No one knew of the Armored Titan. It covered the entire width of the backyard, lying prostrate with its limbs splayed out. Smoke emanated from its right arm, particularly the rupture at the wrist where the electric currents had seized it and incinerated the machine from inside.

No one knew of the man from the other world, standing amidst the wreckage. His discerning eye roamed through the mishap, observing all. D. E. Lawrence nudged the droid's thigh. He shrunk back when an electric spark was let loose from the body. The man scowled at the machine and sat down on a wooden crate, hands digging through his pockets. He wore the navy-blue colours of Trost Military Police, a three button coat over a white shirt and rank insignia on his long sleeves. He extracted the totem pole from his pocket and took a snap of the Armoured Titan. For record keeping.

'Six hundred pounds of steel,' he observed with a disappointed edge to his voice. 'Titan's cutting-edge technology. And all it took was two young men neither armed nor in possession of their gear to bring it down. In precisely, twenty point six minutes. Interesting results, but doesn't provide a promising outlook on the future. If electric fences are going to blow up our machines upon contact, our engineers have their work cut out.'

He turned to the blonde woman who sat miserable on the porch steps. She was watching him from the hollow of her PeaceCorp hoodie. The Wings of Freedom emblem flouted right in his face. He wondered if she was doing it on purpose.

'Of course,' said Lawrence, staring at her vividly. 'The State's main concern right now... is how you lost the gate key, Ms. Leonhart.' He leered at her in condescension. 'DO tell me, Leonhart. How did you lose it? The only universal gate key in existence. Remarkable carelessness on your part... If I should extend that line of thought, I might even deem the thing to be a little... suspicious _and_ orchestrated.'

Annie glared back at him.

'It's not my fault, sir that a droid dog came out of nowhere.'

'Hurm... Perhaps you let him steal it?'

Annie cracked a smile and stood up. She walked to him languidly, her hand moving to the pocket of her Bermuda shorts. Her fingers hovered dangerously over the knife she had stowed away. 'You're doubting me?' she asked him,  a quiet undercurrent of challenge to her tone. 'Isn't gateway surveillance part of your job description, sir? That pup was not supposed to be on this side in the first place.'

'I admit that not all gateways are under surveillance,' Lawrence said with a mild shrug. 'Besides, I don't need you to tell me what my job is.'

The man got to his feet and dusted his coat fretfully.

'Don't forget who you answer to, Ms. Leonhart. Or do I need to call up Stonehess and cancel that special order for a ...' There was mirth in his glittering eyes as he looked at her. 'Oh, what was it again... Protein RN82 and a pair of lungs to transplant, was it?'

The toad face glanced at the blue sky without a hint of remorse. The colours glared upon him, he was not a man for change, nor a man for seasons. 'But Annie, if you choose to rely on this inept world of yours, be my guest. I'm sure your doctors here will be able to find the perfect DNA match for your paramour. The cancer has already spread to the lymph nodes, hasn't it?' he asked her, a slow smile appearing at his lips.

Annie closed the distance between them, her hand shot up, and she caught the man's collar.

She gave a low hiss, pulling his face down to level with hers.

'I'll pummel you to the ground,' she snarled. 'I'll pull your innards from your rear. And it won’t feel nice,' the blonde hissed at him. 'We had a deal, Lawrence. Don't tempt me to break mine.'

The man smirked.

'Barbaric little girl, aren’t you, Leonhart? You want the cure?' he taunted her. 'Then, be the obedient puppet that you are supposed to be and start following your orders.'

Lawrence yanked her hand off his collar and he paused to look at the old scars on her wrist. She hid them hurriedly, pulling at her cuffs. Lawrence broke into a smile again, and his attention wavered to the room on the first landing of the grey house. A silhouette hung to the curtains.

He watched it curiously.

'And from the way I see it, you are running out of time, harlot,' he remarked, scratching his chin.

 

 

 

 

 

He hadn't really paid attention to Armin Arlert's room before. Jean had been too busy making fun of Armin's pyjamas the last time he'd been here. But now that they were settled in Arlert's room with the blond literally freaking out over the droid’s carcass, Jean had all the time to look around. The dorm room was orderly, neat and had an unhealthy number of books. Darwin, Nietzsche and Newton being the constant recurring names on the shelves. On the wall, was a life size poster of the world made up entirely of stamps. Whoa, geek _much_ , he found himself thinking. There were the perfectly stacked assignments and record files on the desk. The main power was switched off, and Armin worked under the emergency light, because the saint was a tree hugger, and he wanted to conserve electricity and save another thankless tree in the world. In a corner, the laundry hamper stood proudly empty. In conclusion, the shorty's room was the glaring opposite to Jaeger's (and his own).

Armin, the saint.

Armin, the wise geek.

Armin, the genius.

If there was anyone who could fix the machine, it had to be him, Jean thought. But so far, Armin had not been able to make any breakthroughs. The machine's internal working baffled the boy.

Jean's hazel eyes moved to the form sitting slumped under the window.

Eren.

His partner had not moved from his spot the whole night. Jean had offered help with the first aid but Eren had refused it. He had bolted for Armin’s bathroom, doused himself under the shower for an hour. When Eren returned, he was a shivering mess, and he flopped down below the window, pulling Armin's blanket around him. Eren pretended to sleep. But Jean knew of the tears streaming endlessly. Like rivulets of memories neither he nor Armin could ever hope to know anything about. Eren refused to look their way. He refused to look in the direction of the dead machine on Armin's table. What had been so precious about a robot dog that could reduce a grown man to tears?

Jean wished he knew.

And there was the golden key still enclosed between Eren's tan fingers. The key to Titan. So, this was how Eren had been able to cross the gates to that other world. So, this was how he'd been posted on both this side as well as the other. And this was how Eren Jaeger had been connected to... well, that _other_ guy.

When Jean had retrieved the key from the grass of Sylvan's woodland, he’d hesitated.

It had been a small moment of hesitation.

But long enough to make him feel guilty now.

Because in that moment, Jean Kirstein had considered keeping the key to himself. Or crushing it under the sole of his shoes, burying it deep within the mud and sediment of earth. Some place so deep that Titans could stick to their own world, and Earthborns could keep to theirs. Each to their own.

Even if it meant depriving Eren of that one thing he'd been searching for all along.

A way home.

But Conscience had won the argument against Mephistopheles, and Jean decided to do the right thing. He returned the key to its rightful owner.

Because in the end, conscience always won.

And Jean hated himself for it.

Jean looked at the tuft of brown hair sticking out from under the hood of the blanket. He looked at the scrapes visible on the hands, untended cuts— never once complained about. What was so special about this guy? Eren was loud-mouthed, a preacher, an angry little ball of energy. Was it the audacity to never give up even if the world was pulling him down? Was it the sunlit skin, eyes expressive with every emotion in the spectrum— from rage to laughter, from sadness to his enduring passion for life. Was this the same kid he'd fought and squabbled with during his childhood and adolescence?

 

_What the fuck is your problem?_

_You._

_**You** are exactly my problem, dipshit._

 

Jean found himself staring at that golden key again and wondered if he'd made the right decision.

'Not gonna happen,' a voice spoke up beside him.

It was the saint. The blond had his goggles on and was amidst removing a circuit board from the droid's back. His hands held it up daintily.

Jean looked at him.

'What did you just say?'

Armin turned to give Jean a blunt look.

'Let me spell it out for you… since you’re slow on the uptake. _So. Not. Gonna. Happen_.'

Jean leaned back, crossing his arms in diffidence. 'As if you can read minds.'

The blond, blue-eyed genius accepted the challenge promptly.

'You were thinking about hooking up with Eren. And it's not gonna happen, jerkface. You seem to have gotten the wrong idea that Eren is weak and needs protection. Eren can take care of himself, Jean... He just needs someone to keep him in line. Not push him headfirst into trouble. And that's exactly what you are good at.'

Jean scowled.

'Gee. You think you've got me all figured out, huh?'

Armin gave him the stink eye.

'I grew up with you two ignoramuses. I knew you were falling in love with him long before even you did. SO YES, big man, I've got you all figured out. So, suck it and face the music.'

There was an awkward silence.

'Rats,' Jean muttered, cross with himself. He let his shoulders slouch. 'I didn't know you were this smart.'

Armin smirked before sighing. He removed the goggles from his head and threw them carelessly to the floor. He passed a defeated glance at the machine before him. 'So, care explaining to me why I've got alien technology on my table right now? This thing isn’t ours, y’know.'

Jean gauged him with a sigh.

'You really wanna know?' 

Armin nodded.

Jean let slip a goofy smile and rose to the challenge.

'It's because your best friend is half alien. Comes from a planet in Galaxy Andromeda.'

Armin tried to keep a straight face.

‘Is this another of your pranks?’

Jean turned sober and shook his head, giving the lump under the window a wary glance. ‘I’m not that creative, believe me. Every word is true.’

Armin stared at him. There was a flash of disbelief, denial and then, shock registered on his face.

'An alien? _Wh_ _at_?' Armin sputtered, doing a double take. 'You're pulling my leg, aren't you?'

Jean shook his head.

'And oh yeah, while we're at it, your best bud is also _married_ to another alien.'

Armin looked from Jean to the lump under the window, eyes wide, mouth open. The tester dropped from his fingers, rolling down the table to land on Jean's lap.

'Ridiculous! I’ve known Eren all my life,' Armin whispered harshly. 'You’re joking. You've got to be! This isn’t funny, idiot face.'

Jean mustered the most deadpan expression he could manage. 'I wish I was. But nope.'

'Married? Eren is _married?'_

'Yep. I like how you completely skimmed over the alien part. But meh, whatever rocks your boat, man.'

Armin was still prattling on.

'He is twenty-three. ONLY TWENTY THREE. What sort of an idiot gets hitched at—'

'Uh huh. An idiot, precisely.'

Armin’s face showed a flicker of understanding.

'Oh God, no wonder he bailed every time they asked him out on a group date. Oh, OH!’ Armin’s mouth dropped into an ‘o’. ‘That explains the absences. The military training and whatnot. And he’s married? Darn it, I never even got to be the best man!' Armin growled, throwing his hands up in air in anguish.

Jean smirked.

'Don't worry, sweetums. You can be the bridesmaid at my wedding.'

'Get lost.'

Armin gawked between the two of them and inhaled deeply.

'You know what? I'm going to hit the shower. I need to cool my head off. This is just... _insane_.'

Armin stood up and rubbed the muscles at the base of his neck. _Galaxy Andromeda_ , he mumbled in disbelief. He was shaking his head, blue eyes drifting to the lump under the window every now and then. The boy took a towel and headed for his bath. He turned around to give Jean a glare.

'Promise me you won't try to molest him or somethin.'

Jean looked offended at the accusation. 'Hey, I'm a perfect gentleman. You think I take advantage of people when they are feeling the most vulnerable?'

'Yeah, that's exactly what you do.'

Jean grinned.

'Fair enough. I solemnly swear I will not molest your best bud.'

Armin scoffed, pressing the bridge of his nose. 'I wasn't worried about him, I was worried about you. Don't go around digging your own grave,' giving this last piece of his preach, the saint disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door shut behind him. Jean heard the boy still muttering and mumbling under his breath, trying to come to terms with what Jean had confided in him.

Jean Kirstein was left to the silence of dawn. He was left to the company of a lump of blanket and a love unrequited. He watched the lump move just a little. There was a twitch of the finger before all was silent again. He could have watched over Eren all night. But the night and its vigil took a toll on the tall, lanky college student. Jean let his head flop down on the table and found himself drifting asleep. His eyelids felt heavy; his palms were red and bruised from the adventure of last night.

When the noise of the faucet ceased, and Armin poked his head out again, he was surprised to find Jean sleeping. There was a blanket wrapped around the tall man's shoulders.

And the spot under the window was empty.

 

 

 

 

 

It was six am on a Monday morning. Six am on a ridiculous Monday morning. Connie gave a loud, dramatic yawn. He rubbed his sleep-drought eyes with his free hand and looked around at the other pitiful souls around him. He was sitting on the wooden planks of the dock, the stretch of Castor Bay glittered in the blue hue of dawn. It was apparently the season of cod for he could see fishing enthusiasts gathered along the shipyard— geared up with buckets, fishing rods and supplies.

Maniacs, all of them. It was bleeding six am, he grouched under his breath.

A time to be sleeping and missing the travesty of Monday morning classes. And yet, he found himself sitting at the docks in frigid November at the god forsaken hour of six am. He turned to the ponytailed girl standing beside him, her cocoa eyes scrunched up in concentration.

'Sasha, you sure we're gonna catch something? I'm sure even the fish sleep at this hour! And looks like we're up against some heavyweights,' said Connie, nodding towards the men in balaclava and trench coats. 'These people look like pros. You sure we'll catch somethin’?'

The girl was riled up. 'Not just something, Connie. We Blaus have a secret strategy up our sleeves. Wait and watch, we will be catching a whole shoal of cod today. I got the best of lugworms rigged up as bait.'

Connie frowned.

'And what will we do with a whole shoal of stinky fish?'

'We're going to bludgeon them to death and make lot of pie.'

Connie felt the bile travel up his throat. Fish pie?

Eugh.

'Great. Sounds... uh- _romantic_. Looking—' he grimaced at the thought of all those pies. '—forward to it.'

Connie gave a deep sigh, tugging at the line ahead of him. He could see the hook sailing in the water with the worm curled around the hook. He felt sorry for the little fella, the sacrificial lamb skewered on the line and being used as bait for the winter cod.

They settled into the silence of professionals. Sasha watched the bay, daring any fishes to swim her way while Connie brooded over the fate of his little worm.

He began to whistle 'Moonlight Serenade' but stopped at the glare from Sasha.

 _You're going to frighten all the fish away,_ she mouthed.

Connie Springer rolled his eyes.

_Not if your scare them first._

He stopped his whistling nonetheless.

There was a brief return of the quiet. Of fishermen haggling with each other, arguing over who had usurped the best spot. There was the sun just rising across the horizon, filling the sky with a palette of painter's colours. And in that serene picture, his nerves were shattered because Sasha shrieked. A loud, startled cry that agitated him and the other fishermen nearby. They turned to her offended, making mean gestures at the two of them while Connie put up his arms up to placate them. _Sorry, sorry, my girlfriend’s being a little skittish_ , he mimed to them in apology.

He turned to her.

'What? What the hell was that? What happened?' demanded Connie. 'You scared the shit out of me!'

Sasha pointed to the bridge that connected Sylvan to the mainland. 'Look! Over there! Isn't that... Eren?' she asked.

Connie's head snapped towards the suspension bridge that stood tall over Castor Bay. He caught the familiar outline of the boy, the briskness of the walk and the green parka with overlapping black and white wings that Eren wore all the time. There was no doubt about it.

'Yeah... it’s him.'

'What's he doing on the bridge at this hour?'

They watched as the brunet walked the length of the bridgework. He did not pay attention to the passing cars and stopped only when he reached the middle of the span. Eren seemed to look at his wristwatch, and he hesitated here. The fishing couple could not read his face from the distance.

'Oh God. What's he doing?' Sasha asked.

Connie gave a nervous laugh. 'Maybe he wanted to get some fresh air. Maybe he's turned into one of those tree huggers and wanted a view of the sunrise or something. Maybe –' Connie watched in horror as Eren clasped the railing of the bridge and looped one leg over it. 'Or maybe he's trying to KILL himself! Oh God, Sasha! Call Suicide Watch!'

Sasha was watching the bridge, frozen in her spot.

'Why would he? Oh, is he still heartbroken over that guy? What was his name?'

'Rival... no, Rivaille. Well, _whatever._ Man, that guy must have been hot stuff if Eren wants to kill himself over a flame.'

Much to his surprise, Sasha nodded.

'Yep, don't blame him. That man looked yum like a pumpkin in season.'

Connie turned to her aghast.

‘Sasha! Don't tell me you're interested in older guys too.'

Sasha turned to Connie and smiled. ‘Of course not. Not when I have you.’

There was a pause and Connie made the link, dense though he was. There was a faint dusting of red on Springer's nose, which he swore was all fault of the November chill. He pulled the hood over his face and gave a pleasantly surprised chuckle.

'Your idea of romance is kinda icky, Blaus,' he finally admitted, staring at his sneakers in embarrasment.

Sasha smiled and leaned in to kiss the crown of Connie's head. A moment passed, and her eyes widened.

'Eeek, Connie!' her gaze returned to the bridge. 'We forgot about Eren! Where is he?'

'Aw crap.'

The two searched the length of the suspension bridge, but there was no sign of their friend.

'Don't tell me... he _jumped_?'

Connie panicked.

'Holy shit, Sasha. Call Suicide Watch _now_!'

 

 

 

 

Eren did not jump to his death. Instead, he found himself stealing an attendant's spare uniform in Stanley Memorial Hospital. He hoped no one would miss their scrubs. He hijacked a wheelchair next and rolled it to a ward room, careful of ducking his way through the nurse stations. Three minutes later, he was rolling the wheelchair out with a protesting Carla Jaeger seated in it. She had been knitting when Eren had broken into her room, deposited her into the wheelchair and careened her off without a word of warning. Eren didn't listen to any of her protests, single-minded as he was in his mission.

'Eren! What are you doing—'

'Sshh, _trust_ me on this,' he told her, pulling a surgical mask over his mouth. 'Nurse Robbins refused to let me see you so I took some drastic measures.'

He led her down the corridor and kept his cap pulled low over his face. They turned two lefts, passed the canteen, the wood-paneled corridor and its latex-paint greens; there was the community hall which had the television blaring a sitcom from the eighties 'Cheers'; and then, Eren led her to the glass doors at the end of the aisle. He opened the doors and invited her to look outside.

'Mom, you complain about me never bringing flowers. So... voila!' he led her out into an inner garden— the only one that Stanley Memorial possessed. It was like the Garden of Eden. Carla Jaeger stared at the roses in bloom- colours of lilac, white, red and amber flush. There were violets too, the scent of winter blooms in air. She had not known that a place like this existed. That there could be a small paradise in this hell of hers. No one had mentioned it to her, while she had been confined to those four walls of her room.

Her eyes lit up. 'Oh, Eren. How did you— It's so pretty. How did you even find this place?'

Eren shook his head and took off his mask, a smile flitting over his lips.

'That's a secret.'

'Again, with the secrets,' his mother muttered in aggravation. She reached for an amber flush, feeling its petals. 'When will you ever tell me the truth, son?'

Eren's smile wavered, and he knelt before the wheelchair. He looked at her with such a hard, serious face, Carla was forced to forget about the garden, about the roses she loved so much and look back at him.

He grappled with his nervousness for sometime, biting into his lower lip, but he decided to come clean eventually. 

'You're right, I should tell you the truth,' Eren whispered softly. 'And I am here to confess all. Though I don't have much time, mom. And there are so _many_ things I need to tell you.'

There was a heavy silence. Carla Jaeger looked at her son, staring transfixed into the turquoise green eyes and the face he had inherited from her. She found him hesitating. Carla Jaeger, like all mothers, read his thoughts.

'You're going away again... aren't you?' Carla asked, sounding suddenly afraid.

Reluctantly, Eren gave a nod and took a deep breath. There was that voice in his head, reminding him why he needed to do this.

 

_You didn't carry the weight of worlds for me, Eren. Admit it, you were just running away._

 

Eren took her frail hand in his; he ran his fingers over the knuckles and the veined skin on the back of her palm. There was a time when he'd yearned for a pat from her, when he'd longed for her to be on the better side of normal. 

'You're right. I'm going away. But this time is different. This time I'm not running away. This time I'm facing my demons,' Eren turned quiet, a grim determination set in his features. He looked at her. 'I love you, mom. I hope you know that. People have called you names and yeah, it's hurt in the past. But I will never be ashamed of who you are. Nor will I stop loving you. Because _goddammit_ , you're the best mom I could have ever asked for. Please, just please remember that.'

Carla Jaeger stared at her son, wondering what had brought on this confession.

She raised her trembling hands and clasped them around Eren's face, pulling her son close. She perched her head on his shoulder. She felt like a failed parent at times, weak in her resolve.

'But why do you have to go?' she asked, her voice muffled against his brown hair.

Eren debated over the question in muted silence. When he spoke, he had a faraway look on his face.

'You know, I never understood why you held on to the memories of dad. Even after he _abandoned_ us. I resented that you kept his picture. I hated that you still loved him. But... I understand now.'

'You do?' his mother asked.

'Yeah. I understand that love is learning to let go,' remarked Eren and then, he gave a bitter smile. He became quieter, less animated. 'But doesn't mean it's the only way.'

Carla looked at her son in surprise.

'You... found someone, haven't you?'

Eren nodded solemnly. 'Yeah, I found someone, and I _lost_ him too. And I need to go find him again. Whether he likes it or not. Whether he wants me to come or not,' he gave a shaky laugh here. 'I’m not sure I will succeed. But I can't stay here without trying once.'

There was another long, awkward silence.

Eren had always thought about how he was going to come out and tell her the truth. And he was sure he'd never envisaged it to be this way. But if there was ever a better place to confess those long held secrets, then _this_ had to be it. The Garden of Eden.

The peacekeeper scratched his nose, unable to meet her vivid brown stare. What was she thinking? How would she respond? 

'Are you angry with me?' he dared to ask her.

Carla was still watching him. She shook her head and brought up her knitting needles. Busying her hands, she unwound the threads to tie the last knots; Carla pulled a scissor from her cardigan and cut the ends of the wool. She folded the grey sweater in her lap and passed it to him. Her every movement measured and frail like a wisp of air. 

'I’ve been waiting for a long time, Eren,’ she said to him and gestured to the sweater. ‘This should go well with his eyes.'

Eren stared at it.

'Wait... What's this?' he asked, words failing him in his confusion. 'H-How did you know-'

His mother smiled fretfully.

'I found a little photograph of yours one day. It slipped out of a book while you were sleeping. Sorry for being sneaky about this, my son.'

Eren turned pale and then embarrassed, his ears flushing red. He really needed to find a good place to hide that Polaroid of his. He leaned back, resting his entire weight on the heels of his feet. At his awkwardness, Carla Jaeger gave an assuring nod and pulled him up into a hug. She nodded, as if understanding his distress and embarrassment. She'd failed him as a mother, but she wanted to make amends. 

'Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres,' his mother recited without stopping. She patted the brown hair of his head, her touch lingering.

There was a heavy silence.

'What the hell was that?' Eren asked in surprise, his eyes wide and confused at the torrent of words.

'Corinthians 13. That's all the advice I have for you,’ she pulled back to look ardently at him, pressing their foreheads together. ‘Look at you, Eren. All grown up. I didn't even get the chance to give you the talk on the birds and the bees.'

Eren turned visibly distraught at the notion.

He gave a laugh into the hug and nodded. 'Yeah, don't worry. Levi gave me The Talk.'

There was another of those awkward pauses. Carla pulled back some more and considered him gingerly.

His mother cleared her throat, growing a little concerned at those words and gave him a narrow stare. 'Should I be worried... that you are sleeping with the same man who gave you The Talk?'

Eren cringed but winked at her despite himself.

'You have no idea how long it took to convince him I was worth his time.'

'Is he... a good man?'

Here, Eren's face lost its mirth, and a seriousness washed over him.

'The best, mom. The very best. If I am here today, safe and sound, it's all because of him. He taught me how to believe in myself, to be calm and most importantly, to stop running away. That's why I need to go find him. It's my turn to help him. I'm not sure if he needs it… but my place is by his side. I hope you’ll understand.'

Carla gave a slow nod, accepting his reasons.

There was more that Eren wanted to tell her, but there was a screech from inside the doors. He saw a heavy-set nurse shaking her fist at him, yelling obscenities as she fidgeted with the door knob. 'JAEGER! Open the door this instant—'

Eren bolted upright.

'Aw crap!' he muttered. 'It's old hag Nurse Robbins. I better scram.'

But before he could, Carla Jaeger caught her son's elbow, halting him mid-step.

'Promise me you'll come back,' she insisted. Her eyes were wide, suddenly fearful for his safety.

Eren looked at her uncertainly. He stared at the grey sweater he clutched in one hand, a whirlwind of thoughts raging in his head and the clenching in his stomach. Standing amidst the Garden of Eden, he made up his mind.

'Yeah,’ he whispered to her. ‘I promise.'

 

 

 

 

 

Eren made two pit stops. He returned to his room, searched the mess of overdue laundry for his maneuvering gear and supplies. He grabbed the only two sets of clean clothes he could find, two packs of Oreos, a bag of potato chips which Krobe had amazingly left alone (he grew distraught again at the memory of Krobe. _No, don't think about it. Just don't_ ) and... a Polaroid. He stuffed them all into his backpack. Pulling on the green parka of the PeaceCorps, he sat down at his desk and wrote two letters in his scruffy handwriting. He slipped the first under Armin's door on his way out. As for the other, he gave it to Mrs Hoffman at the administrative block. The woman in the pink cardigan snivelled at the note.

'Another leave of absence? Didn't you just return from your _military_ exercise, Mr Jaeger?' Mrs. Hoffman asked him with a jeer. 'Let me guess. Off saving the world again? From giant invaders?'

Eren humoured her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

There were no inhibitions anymore. The world had changed somehow, his goals filtered down to a single one.

'Nope. Not this time, ma'am. I am just going to save the man I love.'

Mrs. Hoffman's eyes almost popped out of their wire rimmed glasses.

Eren didn't linger to find out if she had anything else to comment.

He left Sylvan University, aware of the college students sitting on the grass with their study circle meets or just plain lazing around. He saw his college mates, sharing the latest meme on their mobile phones and having a lark over it. Once upon a time, he'd wanted a normal life too. But not anymore. Right now, Eren Jaeger would count himself grateful if he could get back what he lost. The peacekeeper left the bounds of the university and made his way quickly towards the docks and then the suspension bridge. The wardrum in his chest was beating hard again, pulsing through every vein and artery. He paused intermittently to glance at his watch. It did not beep; Gale did not record the existence of any gateways around. But Eren knew it was here. Because he could feel the key heavy against his chest, a burden that grew with every step.

And if Gale was not sensing the gates, it could mean only one thing.

It was an illegal gateway or possibly, an abandoned one.

Anything works.

As long as the State didn’t know he was breaking orders.

As long as the State didn’t know he was returning to their world.

Titan, he muttered under his breath.

Eren suppressed a smirk and pulled his fingers into a fist. Oh, he was a troublemaker, alright.

He stopped walking when he reached the middle of the suspension bridge. Cars blared their horns behind him, passing Eren Jaeger without a second glance. Fords, Honda, Mercedes, Lexus... other familiar names of his world. There would be no burgers or pizza on the other side. No Taco Bell or Coke, familiar comforts that he knew. There would be no oceans and greenery either. There would only be hell waiting for him at the end of that tunnel. And Levi. Yes, hopefully Levi. His expression turned mellow as he watched the sights on the bridge. He saw an elderly couple taking a stroll on the pedestrian path, having a nice day out in the sun. He waited for them to pass. And when he was alone (well as _alone_ as he could be amidst rush hour), he looked at the deep, tumultuous waters of the bay below. His key slipped out, hanging down from his neck; he felt the tug towards the invisible gateway, and he waited.

It didn't disappoint.

The void showed up, a terrifying blackness growing against the ripples of Castor Bay.

Eren looped one leg over the railing and took a deep breath in.

 

 _This_ _brat will follow you wherever you go, to the ends of the universe, Corporal. Consider it a promise. Maybe even a warning._  

_Fine, I'll take your word for it... You better fuckin' come._ _Because I'll be waiting._

 

'Wait for me, _please,_ ' Eren said to no one in particular. 'And please don't die, you asshole.'

The peacekeeper lifted his other foot, removing his final hold on the beloved world of his. He held the key in his hand tightly and squeezing his eyes shut, he made the plunge.

 

 

 

 

Eren Jaeger didn't hear the two pairs of footsteps close in after him.

Jean and Armin looked over the railing, and they found a simmering black void open against the bay waters. They watched Eren disappear into it, the mouth of darkness contracting as it swallowed him whole.

Armin gasped.

'He jumped! Oh my God! I can't believe he—'

Armin found Jean grabbing hold of his arm and pushing him to the edge.

'Whoa. Whoa. What do you think you're doing, jerkface—'

'No time to explain. We've got ten seconds, shortie.'

Armin glared at the ashbrown. 'Jean effing Kirstein, if you think I am going to jump off, you're MAD, effing _MAD—'_

Jean growled at the protesting boy and with a grunt, he caught Armin’s shoulders, lifted the blond off his feet and tossed Armin off the brink. He could hear Armin's wail shatter the air as the boy sank into the depths, eyes wide in terror, his chicken legs kicking in air. Jean watched him get sucked in by the void. Next, the ashbrown heaved himself over the railing and without losing a beat, he said a quick prayer to his old man in heaven, and then jumped.

 _Guess that takes care of my other wish,_ Jean thought as he went down, cold air whipping his face like shards of ice.

Skydiving.

 

 

 

* * *

 

Dear Cons and Sasha,

First thing first, this isn't a suicide note. When you read this email, I'll be long gone. Don't look for me, and don't worry. I'm with Eren and Jean… and I guess I will be fine. (Not really (；￣Д ￣) Send help.)

I just wanted to let you know that I love you guys very much (though I hate going to karaoke with you two.) Connie, stop being a wuss and meet Mr Blaus already. Sasha, stay away from my lunch coupons. I'm gone, NOT dead.

Guys, also tell Prof Jacques that I won't be able to work on the quantum mechanics project, but I'll make up for the credits somehow.

Lastly, tell my grandpa I love him very much.

PS: If I'm not back in a month, kill Jean for me!

PPS: Make it as painful and slow as you can. Use sharp objects if needed.

PSS: If I do die, give me a funeral with lilies. And no, Sasha, you still can't have my lunch coupons.

Thx

With love,

Armin.

Xox

* * *

 

 

Connie read the email a second time and scowled at the whiteboard in their lecture hall. He tossed the phone to Sasha and went back to brooding. He was angry, perplexed and miffed at the three empty seats before him.

'Argh! I can't believe they went on a road trip and didn't invite us. Can you _believe_ those jerks?' 

 

 

 

_I've not come down to explore_

_the murky regions of Tartarus,_

_I'm here in search of my husband._

_I'd hoped to be able to bear my loss_

_And confess that I tried_

_But Love was too strong._

_If fate forbids you to show any mercy,_

_I'll never return from Hades myself._

_You may joy in the deaths of us_

_both._

 

 

_Ovid, Metamorphosis_

 

 

* * *

 

 


	41. The Devil

 

 

 

Chapter-41- The Devil

~.~

 

 

The clock struck seventeen. Darkness reigned outside.

Titan's dwarf sun— the forlorn star of this world had sunk predictably early across the grey sand dunes. Street lights quivered on the stolen power from Trost's electric grid. Everything was stolen in the subpar region of Maria: food, water, air, a good night's sleep and sometimes, even a lover's kiss. Only a blessed few were fortunate enough to possess these treasures of the free world, however most inhabitants here didn’t count themselves as blessed or remotely close. Truth be told, no one knew when their doors would crack open on squeaky hinges, and when a raid would be conducted by the Military Police. True, there was a freedom here, but it was fragile, deceptive… like the porcelain naked figure of Lady Justice being sold in Maria's bazaars.

Tonight, the streets of the subpar were uncannily deserted. There was no music, no laughter. The natives had shut themselves in behind bolted doors. Mothers hushed their children; orphans were told to stay put and make no noise. Commerce suffered losses for merchants had called it a day, pulling down shutters and closing shop. The air thrummed with nervous energy. No one wanted to be caught in the storm that was to come. And this wasn’t just a desert storm. Maria's people sat huddled behind their closed doors, fingers numb and anxious.

The rebel leader had sent the message through his men.

_Stay indoors tonight and wait till the storm blows over._

The people believed him, cryptic though his words were, and they followed it through. There were no questions, no demonstrations. Why would they? He had stood by them through thick and thin, he wouldn't let them down now, would he?

Beelzebub, he was known reverently to some.

Lord of the Flies— Farlan Church.

People sat behind their doors, waiting for it to begin.

The beginning of the end.

Pandemonium.

 

 

 

Ironically, it was also the name of the building where they were supposed to be meeting. The summit for the four lords of the underground— the four enemies of the Titan State.

The giant hall of Pandemonium had doors nearly as tall as its roof, and its dome towered over the five hundred souls it housed that night. The middle of the floor, made of marbled stone, had round tables covered with white lace cloth, a section reserved for the VIP. Purple wine flowed freely, Callisto’s Bourbon being a crowd favourite— all complimentary of their host tonight. Beelzebub alias Farlan Church had changed from his usual cloak into a garb he rarely wore and which ill-suited his temperaments. He was dressed in a tuxedo, a luxury to most— and he certainly felt uncomfortable in it. But he was the gracious host of the night, and as a host, he had to play his part right. His blond hair was gelled and styled, all thanks to Isabel's efforts in grooming him. His aides Magnum and Hunter stood by his side, watchful of the milling crowd. At the pillars, he had few more of his rebels posted to keep an eye on the proceedings. Should things go out of hand, that is if push comes down to shove, he wanted his bunch to be prepared.

Adjoining the walls of _Pandemonium_ were booths sunk in darkness. Private booths. Here, in one of these, two women sat against the plush red seats, dressed down, but still inviting all sorts of attention. Both were ethnic, the first an oriental woman with dark hair, and the other a dusky tomboy with freckles over her nose.

Ymir drummed her fingers along the edge of the table.

'You bring me to the _sweetest_ places, Ackerman,' the taller woman remarked, keeping her voice low. Her gaze darted around the place in unease.

The woman beside Ymir pursed her lips, her expression watchful. Decked in a long cloak over a sequin top, Mikasa Ackerman pulled her scarf over her mouth and gave Ymir a narrow glance.

'As a member of the Press, it's our job to follow a lead. No matter where it takes us, Ymir.'

Ymir didn't like being reminded how shitty her job was.

'Ha, awesome,’ she grumbled. ‘I'd rather do a story on a prophesying octopus than be stuck here with five hundred overbuilt Mafiosi.'

Mikasa smiled.

'You'd rather do a story on a cute _court scribe_ than be stuck anywhere, Ymir.'

The dusky woman grinned, before sidling close to her companion and dropping her voice.

'Touché. So, who are we snooping on this time?'

Mikasa grew serious, her dark gaze moving to the dais at the end of the room. The curtains were drawn apart, wide steps leading up to it. Broken androids littered the deck— a chaotic exhibit for the entertainment of the guests. An odd little conversation starter. Something to have a laugh over between a drink and a cigar. Something to talk about rather than discuss gambling, money laundering and a new circuit for drugs. On the podium, there was a life size model of a sex droid, female and naked with one eye missing in its socket. There was a maid marionette too. There was also a telescreen projecting Sina News live, which no one seemed interested in. And between them— sat the strangest looking mannequin she’d ever seen. This one sat with its legs crossed, back straight, wearing a dark brown trench coat, a white cravat and a mask of ink blots on its face. Mikasa wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light, but she could have sworn she saw the blots move.

That mannequin— or was it droid— was the most peculiar thing in the room.

She forced herself to look away from it and directed her companion's attention to the leftmost table in the inner ring. There was a tall man sitting at it, smoking a cigar with the bulk of his arms crossed in front of his barrel chest. With vivid green hair, his right arm glaringly prosthetic from the elbow, he presented a curious sight. The mechanical fingers struggled to hold the wine glass as he took a swig from it.

'That's Moloch,' Mikasa told Ymir.

'The one-armed guy?'

'Yeah. He deals with illegal arms. Jailed thrice by the State but even the prison at Utgard couldn't hold him in. He is the single most powerful adversary of the government. His goons are loyal to him, and rumour has it that Moloch has the artillery and financial backing to launch war against the State. Anytime, anywhere. Though he hasn't, and no one knows why.'

Mikasa next motioned for Ymir's attention to a table in the middle, where there sat a slender man, looking kind and wise. He wore a sharp cut suit, a fur coat draped over his shoulders, dressed lavishly down to his boots. 'That's Belial, the scum of the lot.'

Ymir frowned at the description.

'You sure? Looks fancy and swell,' Ymir commented.

'Yeah, fancy and swell for a sex offender,' Mikasa deadpanned. 'He is suspected to be ringleader of the worst crimes: sex slavery, human trafficking, illegal gateway breaches, you name it. Never indulge in a conversation with him. He is one smooth talker who will make you believe he is as innocent as a button.'

Ymir regarded the reporter.

‘You’ve met him?’

‘In passing. He’s a creep, alright.’

Mikasa, next nodded towards the third table on the right, where there sat a stocky man with a receding hair line and six bodyguards to protect him. 'That one over there is Mammon. Leader of the drugs mafia. Sits on a stockpile of the people's wealth.'

Ymir let out a low whistle.

‘You’ve done your homework, poster girl.’

At last, Mikasa pointed to the host of the summit.

'And that's Farlan Church, leader of the rebels. You see what this is now? Never have the four lords of the underworld met before. That's why this is big news, Ymir. And that's why we _need_ to cover this story.'

‘Hey, I’m just a tech—'

Ymir was interrupted. A woman waltzed into their circle and sat down at their booth, uninvited. A redhead with vivid green eyes and who was very pregnant by the looks of it. She sat down at their table, looking furious about something.

'Men, _jeez_ ,’ she complained listlessly. ‘What do they think of themselves? _Izzie, you can't do this. Izzie, you can't do that_. I'm not a fucking invalid just because I have a bloated belly,' the woman muttered under her breath, gesturing vividly to her growing baby and rolling her eyes. Her gaze moved to the other two women in the booth. 'Oh, _triste_. Pardon me. Angry, hormonal woman rambling here.'

Ymir exchanged a wary glance with Mikasa.

 _You know this crazy woman,_ Ymir seemed to ask her.

Mikasa shook her head.

Ymir sighed before whistling at a passing waiter. 'Hey, good man, bring some booze over here too,' she said, waving him over. The waiter rushed to fill her cup, bringing the wine bottle with him.

But the redhead reached out firmly and closed the mouth of Ymir's empty glass.

'No, NO! No wine for us,' she told the waiter and shooed him away petulantly.

Ymir scowled at the stranger.

'Hey lady, what the hell do you think you're doing?'

‘My name’s Isabel. And I wouldn't drink anything here if I were you.'

'What?' Ymir asked suspiciously. 'Why’s that?'

Isabel Magnolia turned to the gallery ahead and gave it a searching glance.

'Trust me. Don't drink a sip if you know what's good for you.'

Ymir and Mikasa never got to ask her what she meant.

Because a loud voice boomed across the hall of Pandemonium, drawing everyone's attention to the floor. The man with the prosthetic arm, Moloch, had stood up and looked pissed with Farlan.

'CHURCH!' he called. 'Church, we have had our meal and drunk to everyone's health. Enough with the smoke and daggers. Come now, how long do you intend to make us wait? Why have you summoned us here? To waste our time?'

Belial joined in, smirking. He fingered the buttons of his expensive looking fur coat and shrugged. 'Yes, as much as I enjoy revelry as the next man, we have places to be and things to do, Church. You said that your old leader is back, Beelzebub, and that he has a proposition for us. Well, where is the man?'

Mammon, third of the underworld lords nodded, humming in agreement. 'Yes, where is your new leader?' the stocky man asked, leering. 'Or is he too afraid to meet us in person? Where are you hiding the coward?'

Farlan looked pensively at all of them.

He turned towards the dais, shooting a puzzled glance at the grand stage.

And then, much to everyone's surprise, there came to be movement on the plinth. One of the droids uncrossed its legs and rose to its height. This one wasn't broken, they realised late. They doubted if the thing was even a machine to begin with. It was the figure in the trench coat and fedora. The inkblot mask turned from one face to the next, gauging the mass of Mafiosi before it. When the figure spoke, his voice was thick and unreal, a voice that seemed to be modulated, carrying sarcasm and ill-placed humor.

'Heh,' it drawled. 'Good evening, gentlemen,’ the masked man greeted. ‘And no, I’m not hiding. I’ve been here the whole time, watching you pigs eat and drink to your heart's content.'

The silence was strained in the wake of those corrosive words.

Everyone stared at the masked face, still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that it wasn’t a mannequin.

The man fiddled with the gloves on his fingers, pulling and stretching the fabric. 

'And yes, scumbags. I do have a proposition. I don’t ask for _much,’_ he said before looking at them again, the mask's ink blot settling into a new arrangement, some mystical pattern of its choosing. ‘Just keel over and _die,_ like the vermin you all are.'

 

 

 

 

 

The reaction was immediate. Each of the syndicate men stood up, yelling at the top of their lungs. Every member was outraged at the insult of their fraction. Emotions ran high and dry, Farlan Church was caught amidst the uproar. The fraction leaders overcame their initial shock and raised a hand to silence their own people.

Moloch stood up and considered the masked stranger in amusement.

'Are you threatening us, you motherfucker?' Moloch asked thickly, his voice carrying deep ire as his gaze swept from Farlan to the masked man. 'Are you threatening _us_ , whom even the Titan State couldn’t restrain? Don’t joke around,’ he scoffed, his eyes flashing dangerously over to meet the masked man. ‘If you haven't noticed, dear man, you are just ten men against five hundred. And you dare threaten _us_ , the dons of the underworld?'

There was loud thumping of fists against the tables, a mutiny of voices in agreement. The mafiosi approved the claim vehemently. Moloch was the more popular leader of the syndicates apparently.

But a chuckle cut through the hysteria.

The masked man walked down the steps of the dais. He drew a metal chair to the middle of the ensemble and flopped down on it, placing one leg over a knee and folding his arms. He peered at them all, unfazed.

'Dare?' he repeated, the ink blot changing patterns again. 'You may be five hundred or a fucking thousand. Doesn't really matter. Because in the end, you're all going to die—' the man pulled at his cuffs to look at his wrist watch and turned to them again. '— in exactly four tics. I bet even five hundred corpses are no match against ten.'

A chill enveloped the air.

'What?' Mammon asked anxiously, looking between Farlan and the stranger. 'What does he mean? Is he off his rocker? What's he talking about?' he demanded.

Farlan cleared his throat and gave the gathering a smile. 

'Let me explain. We spiked your drinks, comrades,' he admitted with a daring coolness. 'With nanoids. I hope you know what they are.'

In a corner booth of Pandemonium Hall, these words elicited a sharp intake in breath. Ymir exchanged a glance with Mikasa. The two women looked at the empty glasses in their hands and turned to the redhead who was still sitting with them. Isabel Magnolia was watching the gallery, her expression unreadable. Ymir gulped, sinking back into her seat and wondering how close she had been to consuming the poison herself. Her attention drifted to the inner circle, where grown men had been reduced to whimpering fools at this revelation.

The druglord Mammon sat down in his seat, speechless. 'You are... bluffing,' he simply said. ‘Tell me you’re bluffing.’

The masked man shook his head and rose to his feet.

'No, I’m not bluffing,’ he said. ‘Even as we speak, the nanoids are merging with the filth and bile of your gut, waiting for my command. I hope you know what nanoids are, scumbags. They are tiny bots, invisible to the naked eye. They’ve worked wonders in the field of medicine. They can soak into your DNA, find the weak genes and alter the mutations. Of course...' the masked man gave a chuckle here, deriving a sadistic pleasure in their torment. 'They can do _worse_ too. Those little buggers will wreck your DNA as well. Imagine being eaten out from the inside. Which one of you cowards want to volunteer for a demonstration?'

No one volunteered.

Not surprising.

The three leaders of the underworld looked at their wine glasses in horror while their own henchmen gaped, hands pressed to their throat. Some tried to retch their stomachs out. The sight amused the masked stranger, who merely chuckled.

Moloch was the first to gather his wits.

'W—What do you want from us?'

The masked man in the trench coat shrugged, circling them, his pace languid. 'Tch, you’re mistaken here. I need nothing from you three. What I want are your legions and troops at my command. And for you fuckers to disappear into the gutters like the rats that you are. Comprende?'

The men didn't answer, their petrified eyes glued to the glasses on their tables.

Belial gave a nervous, high pitched laugh.

'You are being too rash, my man. Perhaps we can strike a deal,' he professed though his voice was shaking.

He snapped his fingers, and one of his aides disappeared to fetch something from the back. And soon, a little girl in rags was brought forth from the crowd. Hardly ten years old. Her face was tan, hair nettled, her flimsy dress hung loose off her shoulders, and there was pure terror in her eyes.

Belial caught her shoulder and pulled her between his arms. He held her by force and traced a finger along her cheek, letting out a low whistle in appreciation.

'Like I said, there are benefits to a partnership with me. Do you know what this is?' Belial asked the masked man, ‘this’ being the child gasping and trembling between his arms. 'Yes, not our own. A rugrat stolen from a third world country on Earth. She was of no worth on her own planet, but she is priceless here in ours. A rare find, a prize among my collection. Look at that marvellous skin,’ his finger traced the curve of her face. ‘I have more, and if _this_ one doesn’t interest you,' Belial trailed with a sinister grin at his lips. 'I can give you an entire brothel of these rare breeds. Think it over, stranger.'

The masked man considered Belial coolly, his mask giving nothing away.

After a moment of deliberation, he walked over to Belial’s table. He took the girl by her shoulder— the girl protesting— as she was pushed to Magnum, who secured her in his arms.

Belial smiled; after all, he was a man desperate to please.

'Does this mean you accept my offering?' he asked, offering a handshake.

The masked man rumbled out a bone shaking low laugh. 'Yes,' he said, accepting the proffered hand. 'With pleasure,' he remarked and caught Belial's outstretched hand in his gloved fingers. He looked down at the pale digits of the other man.

'My, my, _grandma_ , what big fingers you have,' he said and without a word of warning, he gripped the pinky of the other man and twisted it all the way back. Belial's eyes widened; he’d never seen the assault coming.

There was the horrid crack of bone.

The man in the fur coat let out a wail of agony, his voluminous shriek echoing in the silence of the hall.

The occupants of Pandemonium winced and averted their gaze. Belial's men could do nothing as they watched their leader go down, staring transfixed in horror.

The masked man could be heard smiling. 'That one's for the child,' he said, releasing the pinky which fell limp like a sausage.

Belial's howls didn't cease. The masked man wasn't done with him. He caught the index finger next, watching Belial writhe in his grip and look at him terrified. The masked man merely laughed and began bending the digit backwards. 'And what about this one, podgy? Should I get rid of this one too?'

'N-no, please no,' Belial whimpered, kneeling.

There was no respite. Another crack resounded in the still silence of Pandemonium.

There was yet another excruciating howl of pain, this one more horrifying than the last; Belial crumpled to the floor, screaming, his distraught head plastered to the floor. The masked man dropped the arm and drew away, leaving Belial writhing in pain and clutching at his right hand.

The man with the inkblot face looked at his watch again before turning to address the gathering.

'One tic toc left. Make your decisions, men. Whether the nanoids eat you alive from inside or whether you shit them out tomorrow is entirely up to you.'

Moloch turned to the masked face, disbelief etched in his features. He grasped his prosthetic arm, as though seeking reassurance from it.

'You’re _insane_!' Moloch snipped under his breath. 'Who—Who the hell _are_ you?' he demanded, giving the masked man a look of utter repulsion.

The man with the inkblot face turned to him, and they could hear his morbid smile again.

'Who am I?' he echoed with a dispassionate voice and extended his arms out. 'Why, I’m the devil. Your new king. And this Hell is _mine_ to rule.'

 

 

_And thou, profoundest Hell_

_Receive thy new possessor_

_To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell:_

_Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven._

 

 

 

Water ran freely from the faucet, running over his fingers. Izzie's inn 'Chromium Shark' was one of the few establishments in Maria, which had running water, and he was glad. Because his tolerance for filth had tapered dangerously close to borderline obsessive. He wondered if it was the stress of being somewhere new again. Or if it was the stress of being _someone_ new.

Whether he liked to admit it or not, the last few years had calmed him. But now, there was that iciness seeping in again, along with hard thoughts about the future.

Levi brought his hands up to his head and peeled off the inkblot mask from his face. He caught a small strap buried in his undercut and removed the voice modulator, freeing his mouth from the contraption. His boots were tossed to the tiled floor of the bathroom, boots that were padded to give the false impression of height.

It didn't matter.

Rivaille Levi was dead. No one remembered what he looked like. No one even remembered him.

And he was supposed to forget himself too. That’s what the job entailed.

From the bedroom, he heard Isabel singing a lullaby to the child they had rescued from Belial's clutches. The lullaby was soft, and the tune achingly familiar.

Levi's hands grew still under the faucet, and he caught himself looking at the mirror again.

He cursed, clenching his jaw.

'Hey,' he called from the bath.

'What is it, _hermano_?'

'Stop. That.'

He caught Izzie’s reflection in his mirror.

'Stop what?'

'That fucking _lullaby.'_

'Oh and now, a lullaby bothers you, Captain?'

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

'Yes, it does. Pick something else, Izzie. _Anything_ else!'

Isabel Magnolia was never one to listen. She sang the rest of the lullaby, louder this time, just to aggravate him.

Izzie was horribly off-key. But despite being off-key, Isabel's voice somehow changed into someone else's-- a youthful voice filled with quiet, teasing laughter. He'd been afraid of hearing it again and here it was, creeping on him. The boy's words were like a feverish whisper in his ear. Levi brought down his hand and looked at his reflection again, studying the callous man in the mirror. The verses and words from another time washed over him, bringing warmth even in his rancid state.  

 

_And if that mockingbird won't sing..._

 

_Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring._

 

 

Levi exhaled, wondering why forgetting didn't come easy.

 

 

 

* * *

 


	42. Gateway Fellowship

 

 

 

 

Chapter-42-Gateway Fellowship

~.~

 

There were many reasons why illegal gateways had been deemed to be well, _illegal_. One reason being that they were physically impenetrable... like per say, the gateway that loomed over Castor Bay. Imagine jumping off a bridge and tumbling down hundred feet. The wind whistling in your ears, the taste of salt in your mouth, the scent of the sea and the frightening sight of murky green waters rippling below. Most people wouldn't dream of pulling a stunt like that. Except Eren, of course. If it hadn't been for the gear, he would have plummeted head first into the depths of Castor Bay. And joined the winter cod in their migration to colder waters. Or died the tragic death of a young hero in some Euripidean tragedy. But the gear saved him.

And there was that void of darkness again, his own personal black hole, his chauffeur across space and time. It greeted him wordlessly, opening its mouth wide and far. Eren didn't need a second invitation. He swung himself into its waiting mouth, aware of the noise of rush hour drowning out.

Farewell Earth.

Hail Titan.

There was a second reason why these gateways were marked as renegade ones. The State-designated interstellar channels had been well mapped by Gale, marking every entry and exit point. But with the illegal gateways, there was no surveillance, no map to lead the hitchhiker, track you, and you never knew where you might end up. There was always an uncertainty to these routes, which made them unsafe and unfit for travel. The gateway might dump you on top of a Titan skyscraper. It might land you on an interstellar tunnel. Or it might do a happy frog leap and land you in someone's bathtub.

Eren could have never predicted the surprise this time around.

For as soon as his feet touched down, he found himself in a tunnel, nausea threatening to overcome him. The surprise hit him next.

He heard a wail— a terror-stricken wail— and turned to see a hand emerge out of the black opening of the gates. It was a thin hand, familiar to him like his very own. It was the same arm that had passed him notes in the classroom, thwacked his head if he did anything stupid, brought him dinners in casseroles, nursed him back to health… when he was sick, recovering from a fight or just plain heartbroken. It was the hand of a saint. It was the hand of Armin Arlert.

Eren watched in amazement as Armin's petite form emerged out of the darkness; the void vomited the boy on top of the brunet.

Apparently, the gateway wasn't done barfing today.

It spewed next the lanky figure of Jean Kirstein, who landed on the combined heap of Eren and Armin.

'Ow!' someone yelped.

'Get off me!' someone else retorted.

The three young men lay in the interstellar tunnel in a huddle of arms and legs. The void gargled close, with a vacuum crunching pop, happy to have done its job well.

Eren looked at the two boys sitting on top of him.

'What in the blazes—' Eren asked in that articulate manner of his '— are you _two_ doing here?'

Armin shoved Jean off him and was the first to get to his feet. The blond looked furious, almost raving mad. He pointed an accusing finger in Eren's face, struggling for words.

'You!' he breathed. 'I've got a bone to pick with you, buster!' Armin let out. 'You got married and didn't even invite me to the wedding!' complained Armin before turning to Jean. He gave a snarl at the sight of the ashbrown.

'And YOU!' he snapped. 'You just tossed me off an effing _bridge_ , Kirstein! Are you trying to kill me?'

Armin looked around at the dark tunnel of the interstellar gateway, colour draining from his face.

'— Christ, where the heck _are_ we?'

 

 

 

Eren studied the closed gateway behind them, his lips pursed in a thin line. No, this wasn't the way it was supposed to be happening. He was to make this journey alone, all on his own. No matter the perils waiting for him on the other side, he had vowed to go to Titan and get Levi back. Even if it meant reaching into the red hot, pit fires of hell and getting his hands scorched trying. It wouldn't be his first time to lose an arm either. And he was prepared for it. Prepared to lose his teeth, skin and limbs over that one man who’d thrown him away.

But now, he had two people to worry about. Both his best buds, idiots like him, but they were his friends who were thicker than blood. And he did not want them to get entangled in the claustrophobic quagmire of Titan. They didn't deserve it. Hell, _no one_ deserved it. Eren knew what Titan was doing to Annie, blackmailing her, sapping away her humanity on the pretence of false promises. He had missed his chance to save her. Could he risk losing Armin and Jean the same way he’d lost his old partner? The same way he had lost Krobe and—

And—

Eren squeezed his eyes shut.

No, he couldn't. He just couldn't. He wasn't going to allow Titan to steal that last one inch of happiness in his life.

His best friends.

He had to send them back.

Eren watched the closed doors of the gateway, looking angry enough to kick it. He held his father's key between his fingers, the metal of the golden key cold against his skin. It vibrated a little, feeling the magnetic pull to the arch. Stupid Frodo key of his, Eren grumbled under his breath.

'Jaeger,' Jean's voice called out behind him.

Eren didn't look at him, didn't answer to that voice. If there was one person he was really pissed off at, it had to be Jean.

Jean Kirstein with his crafty schemes, his wolfish grins.  

Jean, the frat boy who didn’t know what he was getting into.

'Eren, you _can't_ send us back. You know it's not that easy.'

'Oh yeah?' Eren grunted, trying to keep a lid on his temper and failing miserably at it.

'Yep,' piped Jean.

Eren turned to give his partner an aggravated look. The taller boy was decked in military pants and the PeaceCorp parka just like Eren's, with the hood pulled back. While the two of them argued and glared daggers at each other, Armin was looking around the tunnel, still trying to come to terms with the place. Jean's hazel eyes returned to Eren in the semi darkness, the firm resolve in them becoming evident.

'There's no going back, Eren.’

‘No! I can _still_ send you back. I have the key right here with me!’

Jean’s voice dropped to a dangerous low.

‘You realise we will drown in the bay? Gravity works downward, not upward, idiot.'

Eren gestured to the gear he was wearing. 'You can make it to the top of the bridge with this, I know you can, Kirstein.'

'What if I choose not to?' Jean challenged in return. 'What will you do then, Eren? Do you want to take that gamble? Do you really want to see us drown?'

Eren heaved furiously. He stepped over to Jean and glared at the boy. At this proximity, they were close enough to be breathing down each other's necks.

'Jean... Why are you doing this?' Eren pressed this time, trying to keep the edge off his voice. He felt half inclined to add the addendum 'horseface' to his question, but somehow they'd outgrown the phase of constant name-calling. Because whether he liked it or not, Jean Kirstein had come through for him. More than once. A thousand times already. And sure, the conceited ass had caused Eren a whole deal of trouble in the past, but Jean had always respected him, given Eren the space and privacy when he needed it and jarred upon those same boundaries without blinking once. Because that's exactly what Jean did. And if he hadn't crossed into Eren's comfort zone, if Jean hadn't prodded him relentlessly to open up and confess all, the secrets would have eaten him away. That's why, whether he liked it or not, whether he wanted to or not, Eren was indeed grateful to the guy.

For Jean having stood by him in that weird-ass, kooky way of his.

For being a great friend.

And a swell guy.

Eren had always respected Jean Kirstein through their childhood rivalry... but in the last few weeks, he'd come to admire the guy too. Those treasured values of honor and friendship that Jean stood for. But of course, Jean had to _fuck_ that all up by kissing him last night. When Eren had clearly not been prepared for it (and probably never would be).

'You're not being fair at all. Not to Armin,' Eren said, gesturing towards the blond in their company. 'And not to me. You don't have to be here. I don't know what you're thinking, Kirstein.'

Jean gave him a roguish smile at that.

'You know exactly what I'm thinking, Jaeger.'

Eren was unwilling to meet the ashbrown's gaze.

'Go back, Jean. _Please_ ,' he finally said, his anger reduced to desperation and pleading. 'Please take Armin with you too. I can't have you guys dying on me. This is my shitstorm, my deal to fix, not yours. I can't risk you guys.'

Jean reached out and caught his elbow, looking dead serious. 'And why do you have to do this alone? The State needs to answer to all of us, Eren. Because if what that blondie said was true, then I've just realised that being a PeaceCorp isn't exactly what the job description said. That my last eight years of vigil and peacekeeping were all for nothing too.'

Eren gave him a pained look.

'I'm not here to fight the State, Kirstein. To hell with the government.'

Jean blinked at him.

'Then, why are you even going back?'

Eren hesitated, pulling his arm free from the other’s grasp.

Jean watched him, the gears in his mind clicking into place. The answer came to him soon enough. 'Don't tell me,' Jean uttered, 'No way. You're going back for that guy? The dead guy, Jaeger?'

Eren looked up at him sharply and frowned.

'Who told you—'

Jean's face took on a hard edge.

'Rivaille Levi,’ he parroted back. ‘I ran his name on the network. Duh, what else do you expect? And guess what the reply was from Gale? _Deceased._ Dead. What the hell are you going back for, Eren? To bury him? To lit his funeral pyre? To collect his ashes?'

The punch came when Jean least expected it. Eren's fist swung out and sunk into his ribs. Jean staggered back, wincing at the blow.

Eren favoured him with a cold, impenetrable stare.

'He is not dead,' he hissed. 'Don't say that _ever_ again,' Eren snapped at him, baring his teeth. His fingers were still clenched into fists, and even as Jean nursed the hurt in his chest, he noticed Eren’s arm shaking too.

The two PeaceCorps studied each other in the silence.

Eren looked down at his hand, looking remorseful now. He hadn't meant to do that, but he was tired of hearing it. Because it hurt to even think about the possibility... of losing that guy. Crestfallen, he turned his back to Jean and began walking away, leading their way through the interstellar tunnel.

The punch did not go unnoticed by the third. Armin looked between the two of them, wondering how exactly he’d got caught up in their mess. The short boy ambled over to Jean’s side and gave him a look of sympathy.

'What?' mouthed Jean suspiciously, still rubbing at the soreness in his ribs. 

Armin raised his hands, holding up one finger on his left and a fist in his right.

'What's that supposed to be?' Jean asked.

'The scoreboard. I'm just tallying the points. Missing Husband 1. Horseface 0,' Armin whispered cheekily before running after Eren, leaving Jean sulking in the silence.

'So... Does this mean I'm staying?' Armin asked Eren, following at the heels of his childhood friend.

Eren forced a slow nod.

'Not like I can help it. You guys are like leeches, _fucking_ leeches,' the brunet remarked.

Armin didn't know if he was afraid or excited at the prospect of visiting an alien planet. He wrapped an arm around his best pal's shoulder. 'Mm hm. But you still love us, admit it.'

Eren bit back a smile. He paused to turn back and check on Jean, relieved to find that the ashbrown was following them. Though Jean was still looking grumpy and miserable about their last exchange.

The peacekeeper nodded, his gaze turning mellow.

'Yeah, of course I love you guys,' he confessed in the darkness of the tunnel.

 

 

 

 

It was a long five-mile trek, and they'd already walked for what felt like two hours. This was the strangest trek Armin had ever undertaken. It beat scout camps; it beat that walk through a haunted house in sixth grade; it beat all the logic that Armin Arlert had built in his twenty-two years of existence. For one thing, his two friends were awkward around each other. Painfully awkward like boys who had just discovered puberty and didn't know what to do with their raging boners. And secondly, Armin was still trying to figure out this tunnel. Hell, even NASA would have been stumped in his situation. He heaved under the weight of his backpack, which carried an assortment of university assignments, references and the remains of a robotic dog... because really, when he’d got dressed this morning, when Armin had put on his spiffy half vest and corduroys, no one had warned Armin that he would be hopping across the galaxy by afternoon. He would have dressed for the occasion, you know.

And how does one dress up for a hike across the galaxy?

Armin didn't know.

There were no light sources in this place that Eren called the 'interstellar gateway' and yet, there was just enough faint illumination to make out each other's faces and not bump into each other's backs. The whole thing was a mix of contradictions. The walls of the tunnel were thick but if Armin pressed his hand on its cold, smooth surface, he could feel no ridges, no lines. A tunnel across the cosmos. _Wow._ Just plain _wow_. Were distances shrinking with every step? Had they crossed Saturn by now? Had they crossed Pluto? Were they walking over the asteroid belt?

_Jesus Christ!_

Armin found his mind reeling at the mere thought. He slowed down his pace, joining Jean's company at the back.

'Hey jerkface,' he greeted cheerily.

Jean said nothing, keeping his eyes trained on the back of Eren's head.

Armin pulled at his sleeve.

'Okay, I know why you're here. But what about me? Why are you making me tag along too?'

Jean shrugged.

'Well, Eren's the brawn of the expedition. I'm the brains.'

'You are the brains?' Armin said, scowling at the idea. ‘Since when? And if you're the brains, what am _I_ supposed to be?'

Jean grinned.

'You are the comic relief, duh.’

Armin shot him a dirty look but his anger dissipated. The short boy broke into a reluctant smile. Though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he was glad to see Jean’s old spirit again.

They realised soon that Eren had stopped. And they found out why. Because apparently, they'd reached the end of the five-mile trek. Before them stood the other end of the gateway doors. The final frontier. The Gateway to Titan.

Armin felt small suddenly, infinitely small. The idea of visiting another planet did not seem thrilling now. He gaped, panicking at the size of the arch. He watched as Eren made his way to it, fishing the key out of his shirt again. The brunet looked down at it, probably weighing the choices in his head.

'So, what's on the other side?' Armin asked, trying to put on a false pretense of calm.

Eren shook his head.

'To be honest, I don't know, Armin. We could end up anywhere. From Military Police headquarters to a parking lot. I've landed in some weird ass places myself. Even in someone's...’ Eren turned visibly embarrassed here. ‘—uh, bathtub,' he finished awkwardly.

'Bathtub?' Jean and Armin asked in unison. 

And the two saw something they'd never seen before. Eren went red, the blush rising from his neck to his ears. The young man scratched his nose, looking away from them.

His answer was soft.

'Yeah-- _um_ \-- bathtub. That's how I met him. The first time I crossed, I ended up in his bathtub.'

His two friends took a moment to digest the info.

Armin turned swift to give Jean a pitiful glance.

'What?’ Jean demanded, not liking that expression on Armin's face. ‘What's that look for?' the ashbrown huffed at him.

The blond held up two fingers and a fist.

'Missing Husband 2. Horseface 0,' Armin whispered the renewed score and shook his head sympathetically. 'You're losing, Kirstein. You're losing to goddam fate. Must suck to be you.'

'Oh, shut up, shortie!' Jean griped.

Eren was busy watching the gateway, a haunted nostalgia in his gaze. He finally drew his hand up and inserted the key into the lock. They heard a click.

'Authorization code accepted. Welcome to Titan,' boomed a familiar voice.

Eren turned to his two friends and took a deep breath in.

'You guys ready?'

 

 

 

 

Levi walked down the stairs of the basement, his boots ricocheting off the plaster boards. The basement cellar of Chromium Shark was large, housing three rooms. One was for stocking arms, artillery and a hoard of monitors. The second room was for contingencies. And the third for visitors.

Like the one he had now.

He clutched at the edges of his mask, pulling it down tightly over his face. Hunter stood at the door of the third room. The guerrilla soldier saluted him, and Levi placed a hand over his shoulder, nodding at him.

Hunter opened the door and let Levi through.

Farlan Church was standing in a corner of the bright lit room, watching over the blindfolded visitor seated at the centre table. The man had not been restrained, and the fingers of his machine arm rattled away in the quiet.

Levi crossed the threshold and sat down on the desk, his one leg folding over its surface. The visitor went frigid still, having grown aware to Levi's presence.

Levi looked at the man in the hot seat, gauging him in the silence.

At his signal, Church walked over and removed the blindfold from the man.

Moloch squinted against the glaring light, his wild silver eyes roaming the entirety of the room in panic. At the sight of the rebel leaders, he managed a curt smile.

'Isn't this a little excessive? All I wanted was a conversation,' the man said, studying the room curiously. 'Where am I?'

The masked man with the inkblot face considered him.

'You've signed over your syndicate to me. Why are you still here?' Levi asked him.

Moloch gave a grim smile.

'Because I am useful, and I do have connections. I have come to offer my services, Vigilante. Is it alright if I call you that?'

Levi gauged the man.

'Yes, but I don't need _your_ help.'

'I can be your right-hand man,' insisted Moloch.

'I have Farlan for that,' Levi paused. 'But of course, if you want to be my bitch, the spot is open for the taking. Though I doubt you'd be any useful with that machine arm of yours.'

Moloch glared, muttering expletives under his breath.

The man shook his head.

'You are missing your chance, Vigilante. Don't be hasty. I know every city and subpar better than anyone. I know the Titan State better than anyone. I can keep you hidden from its watchful eyes.'

Levi stared at him for a long while.

'Heh,' he barked out a laugh through his shrouded face. 'And what makes you think I'm running from the State, you bigot.'

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 


	43. Reluctant Heroes

 

 

Chapter- 43- Reluctant Heroes

~.~

 

Moloch had unsettled him: the manic craze in those eyes, the man’s probing questions and especially his unwillingness to take his eyes off Levi’s mask. He wasn’t subtle either, the way he sought the contours and pattern of Levi’s disguise unabashedly, as if searching for the truth, for a weakness, a means to his Achilles heel. The false face gave nothing away.

'Impressive,' Moloch observed at long last. 'You’re not afraid of the State, I see that. But everyone is afraid of _something_ , Vigilante. A bullet to the head, torture in the hands of your enemy, darkness, creepy crawlies, the boogeyman under your bed. Everyone has a weakness— one thing or another— a secret they want to keep hidden in the recesses of their heart. What's yours, my good man?’ Moloch’s face tightened, his eyes narrowing, scarred chin jutting outward. A mouth full of yellow teeth, he pressed on in foolish bravado, though the masked man took out a gun and aimed it at him almost lazily. Moloch wasn’t intimidated by the barrel of steel aimed at his forehead. ‘What are _you_ afraid of? You have that mask on, Vigilante; surely, you’re hiding something too. I can help you, I can keep your secrets safe and hidden.'

Levi had considered him. He shook his head before lowering the gun and returning it to his coat.

'I am not afraid of anything,' he’d told Moloch, keeping his voice pleasant and noncommittal. 'I don't have a weakness. And even if I did, you'd be the last person I'd give it to.'

Moloch broke into a smile, silver eyes lighting up with malice.

'You don’t trust me, fair enough. But haven't you heard the saying, Vigilante? Keep your friends close, your enemies closer?'

Moloch didn’t excel in the art of persuasion. But his words lingered, brewing at the back of his mind.

Levi now stood at the pinnacle of Belemoth's highest tower, which didn’t amount to much. The buildings were shorter here, built by masons and not machines. Once upon a time, Belemoth used to be Mammon's territory, the drug lord's dominion. It was his now. All his. With its gutters, with its slums, with its sewage of infested blood and borrowed ecstasy. It was one of the poorest districts in Titan, with people barely scraping through for a living. Mammon had signed over the syndicate but left his entrails of racketeers. However, his web of narcotics dealership refused to disappear with its leader.

Belemoth was the subpar outside Sina, another home of the suboptimals— those people that the State had deemed useless to look after: people who ranked low on the health index, those who failed the eugenics test, those who’d been deemed to have no future. And thus, abandoned by the State.

The first step to resurrection was always purging.

Levi looked at the men standing behind him. A riff-raff of his closest and able men he’d picked from Farlan’s rebels.

'Hunter, Magnum...' Levi called his aides by name. 'I want you two to get me the source of the supply. Follow the trail. Don't waste time with the intermediaries. Drugs change hands at multiple points in the circuit. Get me the names of the sources. Nip the weed at its roots. Don't be queasy about using force to get answers; break a few fingers to get them talking. Do whatever the fuck is necessary. Meet me at this rendezvous point by seventeen hundred hours.'

‘Yes, Captain,’ the two nodded and made to leave.

'Hold on,' Levi spoke up, bringing them to an effective halt. 'One more thing. I want you to keep away from the Military Police. This place is outside their jurisdiction but be on your guard anyway. If you see a man in military colours, turn the other way. I don't want any of my men to get barcoded. Especially you, Magnum.'

The man with the dreadlocks, father of Isabel Magnolia’s unborn child, was startled at first. He pulled the hood over his head and nodded in understanding.

'Alright, Captain.'

The two left, disappearing into the labyrinthine alleys below.

He turned his attention to the others, giving out his next set of instructions. Farlan’s rebels were undisciplined, did not have the decorum of official soldiers but they were obedient to the core. They did not protest his authority, did not mind taking orders from a masked man. When he’d dispatched all of them, Levi gave the neighbourhood a scan.

It was just Farlan and him now.

He turned to his friend and found Beelzebub smiling.

'What?' Levi demanded.

'It's just like old times. So good to have you back. I thought we'd lost you, Capt’n. Lost you to the State. Lost you to that other life of yours.'

'Once a thug, always a thug,' Levi interrupted. His attention shifted to Belemoth again, gazing down at the honeycomb slum houses. 'We have our work cut out here. You can stop yapping and get moving, Church. Go and make sure Mammon is keeping his promise.'

Farlan responded with a faint nod and moved towards the exit. He noticed that his masked leader had chosen to stay behind. Levi walked to the edge of the roof, the dark spots on his mask settling into a new design.

'And what are you going to do?' Farlan asked.

'As for me, I’m going scouting,' the masked man said before stepping off the roof.

 

 

 

 

 

Earth's favourite trio did not find themselves in a bathtub. Thank God because Eren doubted there would have been a bathtub large enough to fit all three of them. Instead, the interstellar tunnel deposited them in a stranger's bedroom. After a long journey weaving through the tunnel of the universe— this bedroom with its pink lavish curtains, purple sheets and fluffy pillows was a dramatic anti-climax to the mission. Because, honest to God, Eren had expected giant fire-breathing droid machines, a possible face-off with the Military Police or even another court martial. But he’d not expected to end up in the bedroom of a princess. Illegal gateways had a quirky sense of humour, when it came to choosing destinations.

The void closed, leaving them to it.

Armin looked around the room, clearly unimpressed by what he saw. He straightened his vest and pulled at the straps of his backpack.

'So, uh, _guys,’_ he began. ‘Is this it? _Y_ our world of Titan?' the blond asked, giving the curtains a disparaging look. He grimaced, blinded by the sight of all that pink. ' _This_ is your secret world of conspiracies, high tech and intelligent machines? You sure, uh,’ Armin struggled to phrase his words more subtly. ‘You sure we didn't hitch a ride to the... wrong planet?'

Eren slipped to the window and slid a hand through the pink curtains. It was a strange material: translucent but also hologram like. Outside the glass window, the city of Trost beckoned him with its evening smog, neon lights and high-rises. There were those familiar sights again: turbo jets zooming in the spaces between skyscrapers, the zig-zag cables of nuclear power coursing through the city, running post to post. The perennial darkness of a sunless land. There was no doubt about it. He was back. Back in the world he had vowed never to return to. Back in the world of... Levi.

He felt an old hurt unfurl in his chest.

'Yeah. This is Titan, alright,' Eren admitted.

'But _where_ in Titan?' asked Jean, getting off from the bed where he'd landed. Fluffy bed, the ashbrown noted.  _Nice, 5 stars._

Eren shook his head. He looked around the room and found two doors. One made of mosaic glass, leading to the bathroom. The bath was lit up, but there were no sounds of the water running. Eren moved to the other door and tried the latch. He was relieved to see the door open. Thankfully, whoever lived in the house did not equip their doors with bio sensors. 'Don't know whose place this is. But I am guessing it's a civilian's house. We better get out of here before they’re back.'

Armin agreed with the plan and walked over to his side. Eren was almost past the door when he realised that Jean hadn't quite followed them out. The taller man eyed the bathroom door.

Eren waved him over impatiently. 'Jean, what’re you stalling for? C'mon! Let's go!' he urged.

'Hate to break it to you but... I gotta answer nature's call,' said Jean, adjusting his pants and looking to be in slight discomfort.

Eren gave the ashbrown a look of utter disbelief.

 _'Here?_ _Now_? Are you nuts?' he asked, gaping.

'It will just take a minute. Chillax!'

'This isn't even your house, horseface! Have some courtesy, will you!'

Jean gave a mild shrug. 'And I'm sure our civilian Titan wouldn't mind if a duty bound PeaceCorp borrows their toilet for a bit. I'm sure they would feel honored to have assisted. Besides, Jaeger, don't preach. As if you've never had to take a leak before,' Jean caught Eren’s eye and smirked. 'From what I hear, kamikaze, you were wetting your bed till you turned six.'

Eren went rigid.

'Who the heck told you that?'

Eren was aware of Armin shrinking into a little ball of guilt behind him. Eren turned to give his blond friend a fixed stare.

'Armin, don't tell me—'

The blond launched into his defense weakly.

'It slipped out of my mouth, alright! It was an accident!'

'I thought you were my friend!’ Eren said, turning aghast. ‘Why did you have to go tell him that?'

Jean Kirstein didn’t stick around for the argument between friends. 'You two keep at it while I take a leak,' Jean said. 'Just gimme a minute.'

And before Eren could even stop him, Jean reached for the latch and opened the door to the bathroom.

They had been wrong. The civilian had not been out. A gush of steam came out of the bath and along with it the ear-deafening scream of a girl.

Eren knew he should have let Jean drown in Castor Bay. The jerk would have deserved it, alright.

 

 

 

 

Armin investigated the fish bowl in the living room. It was a rather peculiar little thing, for instead of finding harmless gold fishies inside, he found fist sized mechanical alligators swimming in it. This place was weird, downright weird. For one thing, why would a girl with pink curtains have alligators for a pet.

Armin and his quantum mechanics brain were equally flummoxed.

He watched the little alligators swirling in the water, chasing the tails of each other. One broke the surface and turned to snap its jaws at him.

Yikes, Armin thought, recoiling backwards.

The girl was standing on the carpeted floor of her living room, her arms crossed over her chest. With blond hair plaited over one shoulder, she wore a white bathrobe and cotton slippers; her cheeks tinged with a permanent shade of rose pink. Armin stifled a snort. Well, certain laws of the universe held true no matter where you go. Girls will always be painfully mortified about being seen nude.

'We are really fucking sorry,' said Eren, bowing to her for what was possibly the hundredth time. The two young peacekeepers were kneeling prostrate on the floor before her. Eren elbowed Jean hard in the ribs and gave his partner a look. A look that Armin deciphered to mean:  _Hey, you apologise too, horseface. Don't make me do all the work!_

Jean took the hint and bowed, carefully avoiding Historia's eye. 

'Y-yeah, sorry. Didn't mean to see you, uh... naked,' said Jean, with one hand scratching his nape awkwardly.

Historia Reiss, the court scribe, went redder if that were possible. Armin didn't know who was more embarrassed of the two.

There was a small silence.

'How _much_ did you exactly... see?' she asked.

Jean cleared his throat, eyes going shifty.

'Don't worry. Not much. It was pretty steamy in there.'

Armin snorted from his spot near the alligator tank.

'Yeah, I _bet_.'

His two friends whirled around to glare at him.

'What?' the blond asked, looking innocent.

'Not helping,' Eren mouthed back at him.

Historia Reiss wasn't the type to stay angry at anyone for long. She uncrossed her arms and considered Eren with her brilliant blue eyes. 'It's alright, Eren. I forgive you... But what are you doing _here?_ ' she asked him, concern appearing over her soft features.

Eren rose to his feet.

'Here as in your apartment?' he asked. 'Or you mean, Titan?'

'Titan,' she clarified.

The brunet opened his mouth, searching long for a plausible excuse. He turned to her and considered the girl; after all, this was Historia Reiss, the scribe to Titan's court and Eren wondered how much he could tell her outright. Could he dare trust her? Could he dare trust the State again?

Historia saw him struggling. She gave him a sympathetic smile, and the smile waned quickly as she remembered something. Her face paled as she began to regret her initial question. 'Silly me. Of course, you’re here,' she said with a hesitant nod. 'I heard about him, you know. About his passing away. I'm sorry, I don't know the details. But I do know how much he  _meant_ to you. Sorry for your loss, Eren.'

Historia Reiss did not realise that her condolences were the last thing Eren Jaeger needed right now. His spirit turned visibly dampened. There was a tense silence, and Armin watched mutely as Eren went still, his left hand running over the right elbow. Armin knew that old habit of his buddy's. Eren was prone to fidgeting whenever he was nervous or over thinking.

Despite his feelings, Eren forced a smile to their host, grabbing Jean by his sleeve.

'Yeah... We should get going. Though I do have a small favour to ask of you.'

Historia Reiss nodded in earnest, eager to help.

Eren gave her a sheepish smile.

'If it’s not too much trouble, can you lend us money for the subway. For me and these guys here. It's for the ride home. And I swear we'll be out of your hair forever.'

Historia nodded, her face lighting up with a smile of rainbows and thousand pots of gold. Asking them to wait, she fetched her purse from her bedroom, going through its contents with her dainty fingers. 'You know what? I'll loan you my travel chip. It’s got some top up.'

'Seriously?' Eren asked, as she handed it over to him. ‘You don’t have to go that far.’

The girl in the bathrobe kept smiling, saying it was no trouble at all.

'It's the very least I can do for you.'

The three boys watched her in awe and shook their heads in amazement, overwhelmed by her golden aura.

'Goddess,' Jean said, a goofy smile playing at his lips. ‘You’re a total goddess, babe.’

Historia Reiss squeaked in embarrassment, going red at that remark.

 

 

 

 

The gear was rusty compared to the State sanctioned ones. But it would do. The cables whirled above him as he sank in air, barely registering the sights of Belemoth.

'What are you afraid of, Vigilante?' echoed the voice of Moloch in his head.

 

_I’m not afraid of anything._

 

Levi had lied. He was afraid. Not of boogeymen or death. But he was afraid of emotional attachments and bonds. Ergo, he did his best to lock them up in a chest. Because that was what was expected of humanity's best. His new regiment were good, alert on their feet and keen to do their part. But Levi missed his old squad. He was sure if Oluo, Petra, Erd and Gunther had known about his plan, they'd have insisted on coming and supporting him. Even if it meant resigning from their ranks in the Titan Army. But they didn't belong in the Underworld. Their lives belonged in the bureaucracy of the Titan State. As far as everyone else was concerned, Levi was dead. Six feet under, burnt to crisp and buried under Titan dunes.

_Everyone has a weakness— a secret they want to keep hidden in the recesses of their heart. What's yours?_

 

A secret.

A weakness.

He did have one. One weakness. But no one would be able to find it... not when he had hidden the heart itself.

He had hidden his heart in a world a million light years away.

Where none of his enemies could hope to reach.

He'd like to see them try.

Levi watched the neighborhood as he leaped past roofs, terraces and chimneys. His frame aided him in flight while he fidgeted with the gloves in his hand, his old nervous tic making an erstwhile comeback. Something unusual caught his attention. He spotted a dark alley and noticed a man in black robes cornered against a gang of ten thugs. The men were armed with chains, knives and firearms. One man held an aerosol spray over the priest’s face.

The clergy man looked familiar, and Levi smirked behind the Rorschach mask. Of all the people he had expected in this hell hole, this man would have been his last picking. The pastor was still spouting his religious gibberish, his stutters painful on the ears.

'Hail Titania, Nyse and Mael. P—Protect your servant. You are the stronghold of my life. When evildoers assail me, it is they who stumble and fall. T—Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall be brave. For you are my s—savior.'

The army of thugs snickered and advanced forward.

'Came to convert us, the nerve of him,’ said one. 

‘We don't need missionaries here!'

The clergyman gulped, taking a ginger step back. His back hit the wall of the alley, and he realised there was nowhere else to go.

'Pastor Nick,' said a voice above him.

He heard the sound of cable.

The clergyman's head snapped upwards to find a masked man perched on the tall wired fence. He sat crouched on its top, like a hawk anticipating a hunt.

There was mirth in the man's tone.

'Long time no see, pastor. How are your Gods faring?'

'Wh—who are you?' Nick asked, eyes petrified.

The masked man leaped and landed in the dirt of the alley. He flexed his fingers in his white gloves, gauging the murderous faces of his opponents.

'Who am I,’ he sighed. ‘Guess I’m your _savior_ for tonight.'

 

 

 

 

The subway ride had gone without any major events though Armin ogled at every human and android he saw in the supertrain. _(Seriously, that guy selling tickets is a machine? But he doesn't even look like one. He looks like flesh and blood!)_ Eren had to stop Armin from going over and pinching the robot. Eren told his best friend the hashtag rule of Titan. That not all androids looked like androids. And not all humans were humans. When they arrived at Brianne district and their pit stop, Eren led them out of the subway terminal and to the Helum towers. Armin stood with his jaw open, gaping at the height of the skyscraper. ( _You call this scary_? Eren said with a low laugh. _Try jumping from a balcony. Now that’s scary._ )

They took the elevator to the twelfth floor. Eren's heart lurched with every level. The closer he drew to it, the harder it was to ignore the anxiousness seeping through him.

_C’mon. You're not going to find him there. What are you getting anxious about?_

'Where are we going?' Jean asked him.

'It's late and we need a place to crash,' Eren mumbled, stuffing his sweaty hands in the pockets of his parka.

When the elevator doors zinged open, Eren led them down the long corridor. He took measured steps to the door and with a heavy breath, faced it.

1263, the number plate said.

He gazed at it, a storm of emotions rippling open. Like old wounds. Like mistakes he wished he could go back and fix. There was no need for a key, and he placed a hand over the surface of the door. He hoped he was still the joint owner of the apartment. That... his name hadn't been scratched off.

The answer came with a click.

Relief washed over him.

The door to 1263 swung open, his biometric accepted by Gale. The house beckoned him inside.

Eren looked down the dark aisle, memories rushing forward to greet him. 

He turned to his two friends.

'Welcome to my home, guys.'

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 


	44. Your Clues

 

Chapter-44- Your Clues

~.~

 

Jean and Armin felt like encroachers trespassing into a place of sanctity. Like a pair of intruders. Like archaeologists digging into some ancient Egyptian tombstone. Or worse, as though they'd been caught defiling the church by uttering the unholy f-word at mass prayer. All by merely taking two steps in. The door to Eren's home had looked harmless enough on the outside, but the shadows inside apartment #1263 sent a sinister shiver down their spines. There was just something about this place, something forbidden and taboo.

Like the Pharaoh's curse, Armin gulped nervously.

Like the ghost of Hamlet's murdered father, Jean speculated on his own end.

The apartment was immersed in a tinted blue darkness, the light from the hallway seeping in through the open door. Jean and Armin shuffled into Eren’s home and stood awkwardly in the foyer. If their reactions weren’t peculiar enough, the more baffling thing— was the transformation in their friend.

The new Eren looked completely at home. The new Eren was no longer the suicidal, reckless bastard they'd known him to be all their lives. He was suddenly more adult, more mature. And the new Eren, _holy guacomole,_ even had an aura of responsibility to him. They watched as the brunet took off his sneakers, lining them neatly on the shoe rack. Next to come off, were the purple socks which were tucked into the shoes in all propriety. When he was done, he straightened up and looked at them. As if he expected them to follow suit.

Jean and Armin gawked at him shell-shocked.

Eren mirrored their puzzled faces. 'What is it? What’s wrong?' he asked. 'Why are you guys looking at me like that?'

Armin gave him the once-over.

'Okay, impostor. Who _are_ you and what have you done with my best friend? The Eren Jaeger _I_ knew lived like a hobo, in a mountain pile of laundry and expired noodle cups! Who in tarnation are _you_ , and what have you done with my best friend aka the slob?'

For a brief moment, Eren felt insulted. His attention shifted to the shoe rack, the organised sneakers, and he realised what Armin was on about.

'Oh, _that_...' Eren trailed, realisation dawning on him. 'He, uh, I mean, _Levi_ was a stickler for neatness and order,’ he scratched his nape thoughtfully. ‘I think it rubbed off on me a little.'

Armin looked at him in disbelief.

‘Little?’ he repeated incredulously. 'Couldn't it have rubbed off a _little_ on your alter ego at school? Seriously, how many times did I have to make a trip to the Laundromat for you? I feel so used! So cheated!'

Armin continued grumbling under his breath while he pressed a toe to the heel of his suede shoes and wiggled out of them. Still grumbling, he handed them over to Eren and keeping his nose forward, the short boy decided it was time to brave the Pharaoh's curse. The saint huffed and left the foyer to enter Eren’s apartment.

Which left Jean and Eren all alone in the most awkward of spots. Eren closed the door behind them, locking and securing it. With a sigh, he turned to meet Jean's gaze and braced himself for the worst. The ashbrown lingered in the aisle, watching him peevishly.

Eren blew out a noisy breath.

'Okay. What’s up with _you_ now? Need a second invitation?'

Jean didn't say a word. Not until the brunet indicated to his feet.  

Jean Kirstein scowled.

'You want me to take off my boots?’ 

'Duh,' said Eren, making a face.

A disgruntled Jean caught one foot and began yanking his boots off. He kept his hazel eyes fixed on Eren the whole time, still studying him.

'It makes me sick, you know,’ the ashbrown remarked.

Eren gave him a narrow glance, his jaw clenching.

'Sick?' he repeated.

Eren wished he hadn’t asked. 

Jean Kirstein nodded, rolling off his socks next. He bounced from one foot to another. 'Yep. He's got you trained like Pavlov. You've heard of Pavlov, right?'

Eren said no, he hadn't. And wished _again_ he hadn’t asked. Because Jean was clearly looking for a fight, trying to get a rise out of him.

'Psych 101,’ Jean explained, his tone growing increasingly condescending. ‘The story goes that Pavlov was a guy who experimented with dogs, Jaegermeister. Man used to strike a bell before bringing food to them. He did this everyday and soon, the mutts learned to salivate at the sound of the bell. So, one day, Pavlov decides to ring the dong but _not_ bring the food. Guess what happened?' he waited for Eren to offer an answer, however the peacekeeper could anticipate what was coming and stayed resolutely silent, his lips pursed in a thin line. Jean went ahead with his tale anyway. 'Fine. I'll tell you what happened. When Pavlov went to the kennels that day, he found the dogs  waiting for him, drooling in their cages,’ Jean dropped his last boot with an audible thud. ‘Get it? That's what you're,' Jean muttered. ‘A pup waiting for its master. Ring a ding. Woof, woof.’

There was an icy silence, and if looks could kill, Jean would have keeled over and died already.

The brunet stepped closer to his partner, a murderous glare directed at Jean.

'Seriously, horseface?' Eren asked the taller man, lips pulled back, baring his teeth. Blue-green eyes met hazel in challenge. 'You're gonna pick a fight with me? Here? Right under my own roof?'

Jean stared back at him, nonplussed.

'Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing, Lassie. Or do you want me to call you Timothy instead? So, are you any good at _fetch_?'

Eren bit into his lower lip hard. But whatever comeback he had in mind, he didn’t say it.

'Screw you,' Eren said, looking away, visibly hurt. 'I hate you sometimes. Just when I think we can get along, you open your big, flapping mouth and say something stupid. And for the record, I’m not his dog.'

Jean handed him the boots, giving a scathing look in return.

'You could have fooled me, _Fluffy.'_

Eren scowled at his partner before stowing the boots away into a shelf.

Their argument was interrupted. Because from somewhere in the apartment, they heard Armin's surprised yelp.

'Um… hey Eren, you said the dude was a stickler for neatness, right?'

'Yeah. Why do you ask?'

Armin gave a low whistle.

'Well, he's not gonna like this.'

Eren didn’t understand what Armin was talking about. The brunet followed his best friend’s voice into the living room.

Here, he saw it. Eren stared at the wreckage. Shards of glass littered the floor, glimmering against the lights of the night city. The telescreen was no longer crackling with sparks, but there was still a gaping hole in its middle. The dented baseball bat lay innocuous in the wreck, right where he had left it. Nothing had changed. The mess was a brutal reminder to the peacekeeper.

Eren ran a hand through his hair, eyes widening a little.

 

 

 

It was a humble, single bedroom apartment. The aisle led to a fairly large living room, with a kitchenette attached. Everything was orderly and pristine... except for the demolished television (or telescreen as Eren liked to call it). There was a large window in the sitting room, which gave a grandiose view of the alien city with its skyscrapers standing against the coal black sky. Armin couldn't see much else in the darkness. But he did see things zipping in the air, in zig-zag paths but never running into each other. Eren called them 'TJ's. The blond college student peeled his eyes away from the spectacle that was Titan. There was only one bedroom to Eren's home, and it had a balcony and a bathroom attached. They had waited for Eren to key in some commands on a dial. _Hold on a sec._ _I'm just disabling security_ ; the boy had told them. _Levi was… extra cautious. There are sensors on every door. You can get locked up anywhere, and it's a pain in the ass to get it sorted out._

Armin sat cross legged on the couch fiddling with his phone. There was no reception, and what else did he expect. He looked over the contents of the backpack, wondering if there was anything to eat. He found chewing gum, the carcass of an alien robot dog, a MP3 player and his assignments (Armin looked at them dejectedly, wondering how many credits he was going to lose this semester). He thought about what Sasha and Connie were doing at this moment. Probably stuffing their mouths or starting a barbecue party without him. Or perhaps, they were sleeping. What the hell was the time difference between two worlds light years apart? His head hurt, and he decided not to ponder over it for his sanity.

But there was still that excitement in his stomach, the enthusiasm to be in a place where no one had gone before. He couldn't believe Eren had been keeping _all_ this a secret from him. Part of him was mad at his best friend for not telling him but... but every time Armin glanced at the brunet, he detected that Eren didn't really want to talk about this world of his. Even now. Why was that?

Armin turned sideways and watched Eren as he cleared the mess in the living room. His best friend had changed out of the parka to a Guns n Roses t shirt. He was wearing a white bandanna over his head and a scarf over his mouth as he meticulously mopped up the shards with a vacuum duster.

Jean emerged out of the bedroom, looking relieved.

'Man, finally took a leak. There's no better feeling than an empty bladder.'

Eren cast him a look of disgust.

'I hope you flushed the toilet, horseface.'

'Yeah, yeah, Lassie.'

Eren growled, watching the taller man meander his way into the kitchen.

Armin let out a whistle.

'Jean's right. You are _so_ the housewife in this relationship.'

Eren scowled at him, but his ill-temper didn't last. The brunet let out a low sigh. 'It’s not like that, Armin. It's just that... I'm the one who made this mess in the first place.'

It took a long moment for the words to set in. Armin sat up, gawking at him and then pointed to the dented baseball bat on the floor. 'You're kidding, right? _You_ demolished the television?'

Eren nodded ruefully.

'Yeah. We had a fight. The last time I was here.'

Eren was aware of Armin’s stare drilling holes into his back.

'Eren, when most couples fight, the most they do is throw teacups at each other or toss clothes out the window. Not smash the effing television!'

The brown haired peacekeeper bit back a smile.

'Yeah, but you know me. I get beastly when I am riled up.'

There was a silence.

'But what were you angry about?'

Eren paused in his work; his hands stilled.

'I was mad about a lot of things. And that's the strange part, Armin. It's funny how none of it even matters anymore.'

 

 

_And would it have been worth it, after all,_

_After the cups, the tea, among the porcelain,_

_Among some talk of you and me,_

_Would it have been worthwhile,_

_To have bitten off the matter with a smile._

_To have squeezed the universe into a ball._

_To roll it toward some overwhelming question._

T.S. Eliot

 

 

Blood.

Red, metallic and staining him.

Levi looked down at his hands.

There were stains on his gloves, and Levi had to peel them off and toss them into the nearest trash can. There were four men sprawled on the ground, their groans filling the sulphur air. Four men with broken fingers, twisted arms, missing molars and multiple rib fractures. Levi felt himself numb and breathless. The bloodlust in his head cleared, slowly fizzling out. The others had fled the scene, dropping the heavy chains and firearms with a clatter in the dark alley. Rain descended, the pitter-patter mingling with the moans of the beaten up.

Levi turned to the pastor, caught the petrified man by his collar and broke into a run. A cable whistled past from his gear, and he shot his grappling gun, its point attaching and detaching into the spurious architecture of Belemoth, seeking for holds as Levi took to the air like a hawk. Albeit a burdened hawk.

The man in the black robes shut his eyes, unable to watch the ground from this height. 'Y—you. Was all that bloodshed necessary?' he stammered out.

The masked man turned to him briefly. 'Violence begets violence, Nick. But if you want me to go back and drop you in their company, I'm sure they would love to have you back, priest,' Levi hurled the man from one hand to the other, his grip tight over the pastor's collar. 'What were you doing here? I thought State sanctioned missionaries lived the high life in the bubble cities.'

The clergy shook his head, dangling his legs under him. They made another leap, and this time the pastor baulked as the ground melted away. 

'I-I came to reason with them,’ he looked disapprovingly up at Levi’s mask. ‘And all creatures are equal. You have no right to pass judgment. Only God alone can,' Pastor Nick muttered under his breath, breaking into a fresh round of verses. 'Mael, kindred soul of virtue, deliver us from evil. abyssus abyssum invocate!’

The masked man snorted at his recital, his voice cold and venomous in the downpour.

'God, huh? Look around, Pastor. We are already in hell. If your God exists, he wouldn't come here. And since he isn't here, one wonders if he really is a God. Would a true God choose between people?'

The pastor looked at him in surprise but said nothing.

'Do you know why this land is submerged in sin as you call it?' Levi asked him.

'... because we've lost our morals,' Nick offered promptly, sounding vainly self-righteous.

Levi let out a bark of laughter.

'No, wrong on all counts. It's because people have lost hope. And all they want now are... cheap means to escape from the daily horror of life. Through drugs, through sex, through a blind rush for power. The syndicates thrive on it. It's business to them. People here have lost the ability to making their own choices, Nick. Because they aren’t free. They don't want redemption, they want opportunity.'

Pastor Nick scorned him. 'The conditions here isn’t the fault of the State. The government has no control in this outlawed land. The people are free to rot or prosper.’

The Vigilante shook his head.

'The freedom here is a mere illusion. The State has driven these people out to their own doom. It chose between its own. That's no freedom. It is a silent genocide.'

Pastor Nick frowned, his wizened features registering confusion. The rain slowed to a drizzle, and the man felt his robes drenched to the skin.

'So, what is... freedom to you then?' he asked his saviour in discomfort.

The question had surprised the man with the inkblot face. He came to a stop, planting himself on top of a deserted hospital and dropped the clergy man down on his feet. The priest fell disgracefully, yelped and took a moment to gather his bearings. Nick staggered to his feet, cursing the Vigilante under his breath.

The masked man looked past his shoulder.

What’s freedom to me, Levi thought inwardly.

For some strange reason, there was a single vision in his mind.

Of standing on the bleachers of the training corps grounds. Early morning hours. Drills, and him playing the guardian. Levi remembered watching the track field. His grey eyes trained on that one boy in black slacks running like a hellhound. Uninhibited. Unstoppable. Unbridled passion in every step, kicking up the dirt as he went. Though there was nothing chasing him.

Perhaps, the brat had always been the one chasing. 

No thoughts on the past or the future. No thoughts on this world or the next.

Yeah, Levi smiled at the memory. That was freedom.

 

 

 

Armin and Jean were lying on the bed elbow to elbow, trying to get some shut eye. Eren had forced them to get some sleep while they could. _Because we're leaving at daybreak_ , Eren told them. Armin couldn't really sleep on an empty stomach. Eren's pack of Oreos hadn't really helped stifle the hungry monster of his stomach. Instead of counting sheep, Armin thought of grilled sandwiches, chicken nuggets, frappe and French fries, and his stomach rumbled in disapproval. The blond turned to the man next to him. Jean was staring at the ceiling too, his hands folded under his ashbrown head.

'So, what's your poor excuse?' Armin asked him.

Jean turned his head and shot Armin a questioning look.

'You've been crabby ever since we got here,' Armin observed astutely. 

Jean shrugged.

'I'm not crabby.'

'Uh huh,' said Armin, giving a sly smile. 'Let me guess. You jealous?'

'Shut up, shortie,' barked Jean, turning on his side so that his back was to Armin.

Armin gave a low hum. 'I don't blame you, dude. I feel like an intruder myself. Must be tougher for you. This is their nuptial home after all. Imagine the memories this place must hold for Eren. Imagine the memories this _bed_ must hold for Eren.'

Jean stiffened, the thought having never occurred to him.

'They must have, _y'know_ , done it lot of times on this very same bed. Makes you feel kinda icky, doesn’t it?'

Jean shot out of bed, giving a visible shudder.

'Where are you going?' Armin asked, stifling a laugh that threatened to emerge.

'The couch. I’m gonna take the couch,' Jean snapped back. 'No thanks to you, shortie.'

'I'm sure they'd have done it on the couch too.'

'THE FLOOR! I'LL SLEEP ON THE FUCKING FLOOR! DAMN YOU, ARMIN!'

'You're welcome, jerkface.'

Armin heard Jean's steps storm into the living room, fading away on the padded floor.

Well, Armin thought, pressing his eyes shut. Good thing he had the bed all to himself now.

 

 

 

 

Eren combed his way through the kitchen cabinets. Nothing. Everything was empty. The airtight containers. The shelves of the fridge. Even the ammo had been cleared. There were no spare zirconium blades either.

Eren took off his bandanna and scarf, folding them neatly on the kitchen counter.

He gave the kitchen a forlorn look.

Forcing himself to look away, he washed his hands. Drying them on a small towel, he walked out into the living room. Only to find Jean folded in the space between the couch and the coffee table. The taller man was watching him, a strange fervent look in his brown eyes.

'What's with that scary face? Can't sleep?' Eren asked, and there was a brief flash of concern in his eyes. 'You cold? Do you want me to raise the temperature setting or something? Thermostats work strange here, I know.'

Jean cast him a look of exasperation.

'You know, Jaeger... if you're gonna hate me, do it completely. Don’t make a half-baked attempt at it.'

Eren went on the guard, shoulders growing tense.

'What's that supposed to mean?'

Jean turned away, frowning at the window.

'Nothing,' he mumbled.

Eren didn’t push it. But Jean wasn’t done talking. He turned to Eren, catching the brunet's eye again.

'This place is a ghost house, Jaeger. There are no pictures around. Not a single one. The kitchen is empty; it seems like no one's lived here for a long time,' Jean observed, letting out a pent up breath. He gave his partner a pointedly sharp look. 'Yeah, we noticed. We're not blind. _Of course_ , we noticed,' Jean gave him another impenetrable look. 'Were you really married? You sure it wasn't something made up in your head, Ruffles?'

Eren flinched. He opened his mouth to defend himself but came up empty. The fight had left Eren Jaeger. He stepped back, tossing the hand towel to the counter and cast a pained look at the ashbrown.

'Jean... Word of advice. If you can't say anything good, please don't say it at all,' Eren told his partner before deciding to leave. He stopped at the door, his neck stiff, cords standing out. 'Because it hurts. And it hurts because it's coming from you.'

 

 

 

Eren sat fuming in the balcony. Even the scent of the Helumbary could not calm him down. The leaves of the otherworldly plant had begun to yellow, and Eren fetched a jug of water to revive them. Having tended to the potted plants and feeling a little more useful about himself, Eren flopped down on the floor of the balcony, legs folded under him, his head huddled between his arms.

The skyscraper city of Trost was lit up, nuclear powered lights shimmering in the glass buildings that towered up to the heavens. He spotted three humanoid droids scaling the height of the buildings in the vicinity. Window washers harnessed to a roof mounted anchor. It was nothing unusual. Housekeeping machines usually worked away quietly in the night. 

He looked up, and there was that familiar view of the TJs, buzzing overhead— adcrafts and transport vehicles. Freight vehicles were, of course, restricted to land transportation. There was the dark, smoggy sky of Titan, almost claustrophobic to look at. No stars. No moon here. Zilch.

He was home. But he was alone.

He was home. And there was no Levi here.

All he had were memories. Memories of himself squatting on the window ledge and being made to count the seconds. All while a certain man with a poker face watched him, drinking his sage tea and holding the cup by its rim. Grey eyes always watching over him. Memories of leaping from the neighbour's balcony to try find a way into Levi's apartment. Because the man was sick, and Eren wanted to be the knight in shining armour for once. Memories of lunches spent sitting on this very same balcony, Eren receiving a lecture, and Krobe whining his discontent from inside.

Were they all... made up? Was everything fabricated in his head? Where did the lies end and where did the truth even begin?

The brown-haired keeper clasped his head in his hands, taking in a deep breath. Of course, the memories would be stronger on this side. He had anticipated it. But he didn’t expect them to suffocate him like this.

He thought about the time machine again. He wished he could go back to that one moment when the tides had changed against him. Against them.

 

There was no  _us_  in the first place.

 

Liar, liar, pants on fire, Eren thought. _You're not here, but you left me vague clues to find you. Krobe was the first. This house is the second. You planned all of this, Levi. Why?_

He gave the city a long, searching glance.

_Where the hell are you?_

_I'm grasping at straws here._

Eren got to his feet and strode over to the railing. He leaned over it, looking down at the depths below. His attention wavered to the tower opposite. The window-washer was on level with him and surprisingly, so were the others. Their heads swivelled on their long necks and they were all staring at him, beady blue eyes fixated on him. They were standing on their gantries, surrounded by cleaning supplies. But none looked inclined to be doing their duties. If Eren wanted to take a guess, they looked all rather preoccupied... watching him.

Eren raised a hand and fiddled with the key around his neck, relieved to find it there.

No, he was just being paranoid. The State had no way of knowing he was here.

He looked down, and that was when he saw it.

Yet another window washing droid was climbing the Helum Towers, its attention locked on to him singularly.

Eren's eyes went wide, realisation setting in late. He gave the circle of bots a maddening look, a snarl making its way across his lips. They were espying his every move. They were lower on the intelligence level, but they were still machines. And under orders apparently.

Eren took two steps back and bolted for the glass doors of the balcony, slamming them shut and locking them. The sound incited a sleepy groan from his blond friend. Eren rushed to the bed and shook a groggy Armin awake.

'Eren? Wh—What? Where’s the fire?'

'We gotta go! NOW! Get all your stuff and hurry!' Eren said before dashing into the living room.

'JEAN! WAKE UP—'

He never got to finish. Because Jean wasn't sleeping and because the door bell had rung.

Jean and Eren froze in their spots, exchanging wary glances.

Armin entered the living room dazed and caught the shock on the two's faces.

He watched as Eren strode over to the telescreen quietly and picked up the baseball bat from underneath it. He gave it an experimental swing and turned to the door, looking tenacious with the bat poised in hand.

'Eren, what are you doing?' Armin asked, his voice overcome by fear. 

Eren raised the bat and looked at the door, his eyes screaming murder.

'Protecting my home! What do you think?'

 

 

 

_This is a dark house, very big._

_I made it myself,_

_Cell by cell from a quiet corner,_

_Chewing at the grey paper,_

_Oozing the glue drops,_

_Whistling, wiggling my ears,_

_Thinking of something else._

Dark House, Sylvia Plath

 

* * *

 


	45. Marriage Reversed

 

 

Chapter-45- Marriage Reversed

~.~

 

Eren, twenty-one years old, couldn't stop reading the certificate. He spoke the words aloud, making sure that it was his name printed on the sheet. No, he wasn't imagining it. That was _his_ name alright. Eren Jaeger in golden letters. Along with Rivaille Levi printed right next to it. And a measly '&' separating them like Berlin Wall had separated East and West Germany. _It's cool,_ he assured himself. He could deal with one crappy ampersand. He would break down that little wall too… with a jackhammer if required. Never in his life had words seemed more precious, more delicate and fraught with responsibility than now. _Unbelievable,_ he chimed in his head. _Holy batman,_ he’d gone and done it. He was married. Truly married. Plus, there was a nice cursive font to their names. He liked that cursive font. It held the promise of a normal life ahead. Since nothing bad ever happened to people whose names were printed in cursive, right? Sure, it was just six months together, but he would learn to treasure every moment of it. Married, went the voice in his head again. _Holy batman in a batmobile,_ he was really married.

The man next to him gave an impatient grunt.

'Jaeger, frame it. It will last you longer,' came the insightful advice.

Eren looked up at the older man and beamed, taking the advice straight to heart.

'I might just do that,’ he confided, a low laugh rumbling from his throat, and he made no attempt to conceal his bliss. His enthusiasm was infectious, his giddiness a sight to behold. ‘Though Armin's gonna kill me when he finds out,' Eren said, reading the parchment in his hand again. It had the letterhead of Titan's Department of Civil Union Registry and Matrimonial Alliances, which was a mouthful to say and didn’t sound as romantic as he could have hoped for. Titan had a way of taking the spark out of everything.

'Armin?' Levi repeated, tilting his head and ruminating over the name. He found a face to match it soon enough. 'The blond kid in the pictures?' Levi asked and gave the younger a cursory look.

Eren nodded fondly. 'That's him, alright. He’ll be so pissed that he didn't get to be my best man. And I’m pretty sure he's gonna say I got hitched too early.'

Levi paused, pressing his hand over the door to their apartment. He was dressed in his black coat, white shirt and black pants with no accessories. No frills, but the usual mundane. While Eren was dressed in a dark navy suit with a shimmering grey vest and a blue dotted tie. The college brat had even gone to the lengths of putting a sprig of helumbary in his buttonhole. And though Levi did not say it aloud, there was no denying the fact that Eren Jaeger looked drop-dead gorgeous in that attire. Dashed handsome with his tanned skin, messy brown hair and brilliant eyes. Try as he might, Levi couldn’t take his eyes off Eren. As if Helios had decided to incarnate itself into a human and was standing right before him. But Levi wasn't going to mention that aloud— no, not over his dead body. Heck, they must have looked like an odd pair. Levi morose and dressed for a funeral while Eren upbeat and dressed up like he was going for a gala party.

The door lit up in a hue of green light around its edges before clicking wide open, welcoming Levi back. The shorter man gave Eren a sidelong glance, watching the boy curiously. 'Know what, Eren? Don't tell your friend about this. Better yet, don't tell _anyone_.'

The youngster did a double-take.

‘Wait. You want me to lie to my best bud?' asked Eren.

Levi gave a heavy sigh and shook his head.

'No. I’m asking you to be _quiet_ about it. There’s a difference between the two, Eren. Being quiet about this won't raise any eyebrows, and there won't be any unpleasant questions for you either.’

Eren mused over the suggestion. 'You make it sound like I have to be an undercover peacekeeper _and_ an undercover husband,’ he groaned, not pleased with the idea of keeping so many secrets. ‘That's gonna be… a little difficult,' groused Eren, giving his spouse a look of intent.

‘Why difficult?’

Eren smiled smugly.

'You’re forgetting what a hot piece of ass I am.’

Levi smirked, tilting his head to give Eren's aforementioned body part an appreciative glance. Yep, a nice ass in a slim fit tuxedo. He hummed in approval. 'No arguments there,' Levi said with a glint in his eyes.

Eren’s smile didn’t wear off. He ran a hand through his hair, his voice loud, bragging and full of bluster. ‘I’m all kinds of Casanova back in my world, sir. Hella fine, mind you. A total catch. You should be grateful.'

Levi humoured him with a nod.

'That so?’ he asked. ‘Last I remember, you wanted to go scream atop a mountain that you finally managed to tie me down.'

'Damn right,' Eren rued, looping an arm around the man's head and pulled him close. There was a fierceness in those eyes as they met Levi's grey. The brunet's eyebrows were drawn in a triumphant crease as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long, long time. They couldn’t kiss in the Department of Civil Union Registry and Matrimonial Alliances, but here, away from the cares of the world and the universe, Eren felt inclined to seal the deal with the missing kiss. He held Levi's gaze, drinking in every sight of the pale man before breaking into a wry smile.

'Damn right,’ he said again, his voice lower and husky this time. ‘I was thinking about going to the Grand Canyon and screaming 'Yes! Corporal is mine! All mine!'

Levi frowned.

'What is this Grand Canyon?'

Eren suppressed a laugh. He bent his head, kissed the bridge of Levi’s nose and then swooped down to nibble playfully on his guardian’s lower lip. 'Just another place you and I need to visit someday,' he whispered in a dulcet tone. 'You see now, Levi? Where the heck is the fun in keeping all this a secret if I can't even announce it to the whole universe?'

Levi smiled. He reached out with a hand and tugged at Eren's left earlobe, indulging the younger.

'Well, sunshine, you should have thought it over _before_ proposing to me,' he remarked before removing his hold on Eren's ear and slipping past the door.

The brunet hummed pleasantly, licking his lips and rubbing at the slight ache in his ear. He became engrossed in reading the certificate again, making sure that it was indeed his name written on it. Eren realised after a long-drawn moment that the door had closed behind Levi, and Eren was left standing alone in the hallway.

He turned and grasped the handle of the door.

In a rude shock to his senses, it didn't budge. The auto lock had set in.

His eyes widened.

Uh oh—

_No._

Eren made another effort at opening the door, giving the knob a frisk. The door still wouldn't budge.

_No way._

There was a brief flash of red light around the perimeter of the doorframe, and he heard the buzzer alarm being set off inside. Eren groaned in chagrin.

'Oh, come on, Levi,’ he bellowed. ‘You can't be serious! Isn't it about time I became co-owner! You can't lock your husband out on your wedding day! This isn’t funny, it’s plain mean!'

There was a chuckle from inside.

Levi's voice rang out, feigning innocence.

'Oh right. Forgot about it, sweetheart. I'll get you authorization tomorrow.'

' _What_?' Eren yelled. 'What the hell! And how am I supposed to get in, you jerk?'

'Use your brain. It's not the first time you've had to break into my home.'

' _Our_ home, dammit!' Eren roared.

 

 

 

 

The universe is immeasurably empty and cold. It wasn’t designed for the comfort of the human mind either. A promise of a normal life, a home and a marriage. He had all of that for three glorious years in his life. Three years and apparently, it was too much happiness for a single person to possess. Because it was not bad enough that his father never stuck around and deserted Eren. It was not bad enough that his mother was institutionalized in a hospital. The universe seemed to be wanting payback from Eren Jaeger for those three blissful years. It was now taking away all that he loved. Like picking petals from the Helumbary. One by one. Until he withered to death.

Eren looked between the door and his friends. Here he was, decked up in his Guns n Roses tee, staring venomously at the entrance of 1263. He had one baseball bat in his hand, two people and a home to defend. Against hostile enemies, hitherto nameless and without shape. The odds were stacked against him.

'How?' he whispered in the silence of the apartment, his voice tense and outraged. 'I don't get it. How did they even _find_ us? They couldn’t have been watching the house the whole time!’

He heard footfall, and his blond best friend stepped up to him. Armin pressed a finger to his lips, motioning for Eren to be quiet. His best friend caught hold of Eren’s wrist and lifted it. The boy tapped the watch.

'What?' Eren asked, looking confusedly at him.

Armin rolled his eyes as if the answer ought to be obvious.

'You said everything here is ruled by the Network, right? I bet they are tracing your whereabouts through your watch,' he conjured. ‘That’s my theory anyway.’

'Through the comm?'

Armin nodded. ‘Uh huh.’

Eren caught Jean's eye, and there was a flicker of understanding between them. The two PeaceCorps grabbed their watches, unstrapped them and tossed the wristbands to the ground, raising their feet high and ready to stomp on the connections… but Armin's cry made them freeze.

'No! Don't destroy it now, you dunderheads.'

Eren and Jean turned to him in surprise.

'Keep passing your location to them. It will buy us some time.'

The doorbell buzzed again, sending the three into a muted panic.

Armin, the saint, rose to the occasion and donned the hat of the strategist. A pensive expression came over him— like the one he adopted when they were playing Warcraft or Runescape and when he was kicking everybody's ass on the dorm’s WAN.

Armin transitioned into battle mode quickly.

'Eren, you defend the balcony. Use that big, bad baseball bat of yours.'

'What are _you_ gonna do?'

'I’m going to answer the door.'

Eren objected, shaking his head.

'Armin, it could be anyone out there. You don't know the first thing about fighting—'

There was the screech of wheels. It cut through the silence, and the three young men turned to the window. The gantry had arrived at the balcony, and the silhouette of the droid was visible as it hauled itself over the railing and stood up on its feet. Its bald head did a preliminary scan of the house and detected them in the living room.

'GO!' Armin barked at his best friend.

Eren didn’t lose a beat and did as he was told, disappearing into the bedroom.

Jean looked at the blond expectantly, cracking his knuckles.

'Not bad, jammies. What about me?' Jean hissed, pointing to himself. ‘What do you want me to do?’

Armin gave the taller man a dark, complacent look.

'Hairspray. Get me hairspray,' he instructed.

Jean stared at him dumb-founded.

Armin gave a sigh.

'Look, we don’t have ammo. But aerosols are flammable, right? We can improvise with those,' Armin explained his plan.

Realisation dawned on Jean, as he put two and two together, and marvelled at the insight of the whiz kid. He gave a whistle of appreciation.

'I knew you'd be useful to keep around.'

Armin gave a smile of gratitude. 'Thanks, jerk face. Now get going,' he urged.

Jean didn't need a reminder. He made a quick search around the closets, didn't find any hairspray but he did find a disinfectant in the kitchen. And a lighter. Armin grabbed both from him and armed with these great household tools of modern civilization, the blond approached the door. Jean took the sentinel position on the other side of the door frame.

The two exchanged a look, counting to three in the silence.

The doorbell rang a third time, interrupting them.

'Who is it?' Armin called out finally, holding up the aerosol. He was amazed at how calm he sounded though his knees were shaking, but he was glad Jean was there to back him up.

There was a silence.

'Who is it?' Armin demanded again. 'And make your answer snappy. I'm armed with... uh, cleaning spray,' he said, rolling his eyes at the disinfectant. Seriously, why did he even need to reveal that? He gave a coarse laugh to mask his stupidity. 'And I am not afraid to use it, you hear!' he threatened, hoping the enemy would still be intimidated.

The voice that spoke up was weak and sounded like an old woman's.

'I—It's Mrs. Norman from next door. P—Please don't hurt me. I spotted Eren... from the window, and I have something that belongs to him.'

Jean and Armin glanced at each other in surprise. They rubbed a hand over their faces, heaving a collective sigh of relief.

Outside in the balcony, they heard Eren curse.

Jean gave Armin's shoulder a pat.

'You handle the old fossil. Eren and I will take care of that one,' said Jean, before hurrying off to help his partner.

 

 

 

 

 

The officiant at Titan's Department of CUR&MA peered at the two of them, a slight grimace forming over her ethnic brown features. Another homosexual marriage, she rued. What was the universe coming to, and why were such good-looking men marrying each other when she was still single? Alas, the curse of the single, brown woman.

Eren watched her run through their profiles on her 3D projector screen, checking their ages (her eyebrows didn't shoot up at the age gap, thankfully), their occupations (her expression did become sallow here), license (yes, they had got the preliminary formalities done, impressive) and domicile (here, she gave a visible frown and clicked her tongue.)

'Mr Jaeger, let me confirm. You are an… _Earthborn_?'

Eren passed an uncertain look at Levi, who remained unfazed.

The brunet realised he wasn't going to get any help from those quarters. Eren turned back to the officiant.

'Yeah, I am. Is that a problem?'

The woman was opening another file on her totem and reading through it.

'Yes, it is. As per penal code XXVII section 14, a matrimonial alliance is permissible between two people whose current domicile and citizenship is Titan. You don't fit that bill, handsome.'

Eren stared at her, puzzled.

‘That sounded like a whole lot of baloney to me. Can you translate that into English please?'

'I am afraid you can't get married,' the woman deadpanned. ‘Since you weren’t born here.’

Eren's spirits sank with a splash. Like the RMS Titanic going under the Atlantic and hitting rock bottom.

There was a grunt of annoyance from the person sitting next to Eren.

'Hate to burst your bubble,' Levi said, crossing his arms. 'But lady, clearly you're out of the loop.'

'What?' the officiant asked indignantly.

'The State passed an amendment to the code thirteen years ago, legalising cross-domicile marriages. Section 312 if you care to look it up.'

The woman scrunched up her nose but queried his input. She gave a murmur of agreement. 'Ahem. You are... correct,' she said in surprise. 'Considering that you are army men, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You know your stuff, huh?'

She took out a small electronic reader and handed it to them.

'Just press your left thumbs on the dotted lines.'

Levi didn't hesitate even for a second. He nodded, tilting his head, and completed the task as if he'd been asked to take his dog out for a walk. He passed the electronic display to Eren who was watching Levi agape.

'What?' Levi prompted. 'You got cold feet already?'

Eren shook his head, still staring at the man and struggled to find the right words.

Levi's countenance showed concern for the first time.

'… Is this what your people call Marriage Blues? You're... getting second thoughts about this?'

'No,' Eren said quickly. 'Of course not. I just can’t believe it.'

'Can’t believe _what?_ '

'That you read up on the statutes and stuff,' the brunet remarked, breaking into a wide smile.

'That's what this is about?'

Eren nodded.

'YES! You don't know how much that means to me,' he said, overcome by seriousness. 'To know that you actually care.'

Levi turned his head away though Eren detected a tinge of embarrassment on the man's face.

'Holy cow. Are you blushing, Levi?'

'Of course not. You're imagining things,' Levi said, a hand reaching out and giving Eren's head a flick. 'Just finish what we came here for.'

Eren laughed and pressed his thumb along the second dotted line, treasuring every moment of it.

'Okay, that’s one part done,' twittered the officiant. 'I hope you brought your witnesses. I need their prints too.'

Levi turned to a cloaked man standing behind a pillar. Eren hadn't realised that the man was with them. The stranger came over and never removing his hood once, he bent and nodded to Levi. The man (well, Eren _guessed_ it was a guy) stuck his thumb out on the reader. And as quick as that, with a flourish of a brief congratulatory handshake with Levi, he turned and left.

Eren turned to the reader and stared at the thumbprint. He read the name under it, retrieved from the records.

F. Church.

'Wait. Who the hell is Church?' asked Eren.

'No one you need to know,' Levi said, a smile lingering on his lips.

'What the heck! Don't just pick hobos from the street.'

Levi glanced at the tuxedo-clad man standing behind Eren, a man built like a slab of granite.

'Oh, and a _bartender_ is any better?'

Eren growled.

'Hey, Reiner and I go waaaay back. Back me up, Reiner.'

The blond hunk gave the peacekeeper a narrow glance. 'Can I just go back to work?' Reiner grumbled, running a hand through his cropped hair. 'This tuxedo is on rent, you know.'

 

 

 

 

 

The gantry squeaked on its wheels, and the window washer stood to its full height appraising him. Eren Jaeger raised his baseball bat, reminding himself of all those trial games in high school. He never made it to the final team. He'd never been particularly good at any sport except track and field, maybe even boxing (though Coach Finlay would beg to differ) but Eren had played a few practice innings in his lifetime. He swung the bat in mock practice.

'You want a piece of me?' he called to the droid. 'C'mon then, lunkhead. COME FOR ME!'

The window washer was a menial robot, a base model of Titan's artificial intelligence. If Eren squinted hard enough, he could see the name of the manufacturing company branded on the side of its forehead. All through its internment, the droid had spent its life: cleaning windows, scrubbing the dirt on high rise buildings. All for what?

For thankless humans.

But perhaps this was the highlight of its life— challenging a human opponent for the first time. Eren had taken down giant machines before: Armoured Titan, nasty spiders, sexbots and whatnot. What was this scrawny housekeeping machine against a multitude of kill-on-sight collaterals? Sure, he didn't have his zirconium blades. But this bat would do. The machine stood in the stretch between him and the balcony edge. It reached out with an arm, considering him.

It was supposed to be easy... right?

Just one hit, behead its fuzzy logic skull, and be done with it.

And yet, he couldn't.

Because really, hadn't he called Krobe a lunkhead too. Just a dopey machine. And that little dog had saved his life. Twice. How? Humans didn't teach machines to feel. It would be counterproductive if machines began feeling and becoming human. Were these hollow bots just following orders? Or was there something more to that metal shell of their heads? Who is to say that they didn't learn and emulate their masters? Like Krobe did.

Eren's hand dropped a little at the memory.

Shit, why couldn't he do this?

Because Eren was realising the truth about Titan. The truth about being a peacekeeper.

Machines were not the real enemy here.

The moment of hesitation cost him dear.

The machine edged forward, its metal fingers reaching for his throat. Eren gawked at it, frozen in his steps.

Before the window washer could snatch his key or strangle him, there was a flash of movement on Eren's side. Jean flicked the lighter and pressed the nozzle of a spray into the flame. There was a burst of tin— something sizzled— and it burst. All Eren saw was yellow, the force of the explosion throwing him and his partner backwards. A nebulous fire erupted, ignited by the methane in the air. The droid window-washer drew back but didn't put up any resistance. Its housecleaning overalls caught fire. It patted at its clothes, unable to comprehend how to handle the scourge of the flames sweeping through it. All in vain because soon, the fire reached the machine's fuel supply and with another sizzle of sparks, the burning flames engulfed the whole metal body.

Eren watched the machine burn, like a human silhouette caught in a fireball. He couldn’t peel his eyes away from it. He felt his sleeve being tugged at. Jean was pulling him back to the glass doors, away from the burning wreck.

‘C’MON, JAEGER! LET’S GO!' he yelled.

Eren found himself frozen. He watched as the android collapsed on the helumbary, and a bush fire started next. The jug fell over, water spilling out, lost in the flames, and the ceramic pots began to turn charcoal black. He could smell the sulphur and the carbon in the air. The flames consumed oxygen rapidly, enveloping them in a cloud of heat.

And he remained rooted to the place, his mouth hanging slack.

Jean wrapped an arm around Eren, pulling him back forcibly.

'You're a peacekeeper, Jaeger. A soldier. Don't you forget it.'

Eren ran a hand over his face, forcing his eyes closed. Away from the burning mess of his home.

 

 

 

 

The mood inside Chromium Shark was melancholic, a general air of malaise, despite Izzie's attempts to lighten it. Isabel Magnolia was tending to Hunter's forearm, the redhead pulling away a glass shard lodged in his tattooed skin with her tweezers. She dabbed a cotton ball at the blood that oozed out and cleaned the cut. 'Perhaps, we should arrange for a professional medic. I’m not a stay at home nurse, you know. Spare me please, when all you guys do is bring your share of cuts and bruises every day.'

'Aye, but you'll make a vixen nurse,' Hunter told Isabel with a wince.

'Hey,’ a voice cut in, annoyed. ‘Stop hitting on my girl,' Magnum scowled from the other end of the inn’s dining table. 'Especially when I’m sitting right here.'

Izzie ignored the two and turned to Levi, who was seated and watching Farlan flip through the channels on the telescreen. Izzie sighed, deciding to broach the subject on everyone’s mind.

'What are you going to do about Moloch, _hermano_?'

Levi was not wearing his mask. Not here in the company of friends. He passed a brief glance at her.

'I am thinking of accepting his proposition, Izzie.'

There was a strained silence in the air. Even Magnum and Hunter turned to him sharply, wondering if they’d heard him right.

Magnum, despite the bandage on his shoulder, put up a protest.

'But captain, is it wise to trust him? By Mael, he’s a two-faced eel,' the man with dreadlocks complained.

Levi held up a hand to silence them.

'I'm aware of the risk. But he has troops, and let’s face it, we are just a handful. If we need to liberate the subpars, I need his resources. If we want returns, we need to gamble. That is the cardinal rule of war.'

'Rivaille,' Farlan called sharply, drawing Levi’s attention. ‘You really need to see this.’

'What is it?' Levi asked, turning to his old friend.

The man with the dirty blond hair pointed to the telescreen.

All eyes turned to the news channel, where the reporter was covering a news story in Trost. An accident apparently. Levi didn't know why he ought to be concerned with accidents in Trost…until the visuals grabbed his attention.

'—The incident took place at 1 am,' the reporter narrated in a grave voice. 'Mechatronics, the company which manufactured the housekeeping force, refused to comment on the aberrant behaviour of its B2B products. The site of the fire accident was fortunately unoccupied, and there were no casualties reported. But a hysterical neighbour insisted that she saw three other droids spying on her—'

The camera showed the grainy picture of an apartment and smoke emanating from it.

Levi watched it, going frigid still in his chair. He inhaled sharply, a flicker in his grey eyes.

'Wake up,' Levi remembered nudging the idiot sleeping beside him.

There was a grumble from the lump. The younger poked his head out from under the blanket. Levi raised a hand to the messy head. He swept through the brown strands of hair, ruffling them, tangling his hand in the hair until the younger turned to blink at him groggily.

'Whattimesit?'

'Five,' Levi answered.

There was a groan.

'Five? Okay, wake me up at nine. When normal people wake up.'

'We are not on your planet's time zone, moron. Besides,' Levi paused, his gaze softening. 'You forgot what day it is?'

'The day I get to sleep in?' the voice offered, looking hopeful.

Levi glared at the lump.

'If you don't get up in the next ten tics, you’ll be doing a hundred sit ups, trooper.'

'Man, you’re so mean. You're worse than Shadis.'

There was a silence, and Levi gave a disconcerted sigh.

'You do realise I cleared my schedule today on your insistence.'

There was a brief pause. The meaning of those words finally registered, and Eren sat up, emerging out of his cocoon in a flash. He shook himself free from his last vestiges of sleep.

'Crap,’ he cursed, fumbling for his watch from the bedside table. He squinted at the dial, reading the date. ‘It's D-day, isn't it?' the boy asked, raking a hand through his hair in agitation.

Levi granted Eren a smile. He curled a leg around the young peacekeeper and reeled him in.

'Not bad... I thought you forgot,' Levi said, pulling him closer.

Eren smirked, accepting the invitation with alacrity, and leaned in to the kiss. 'Never,' he vowed, slipping a tongue into that warm mouth waiting below him.

Levi grimaced into the kiss. '— tch, morning breath,' he grumbled.

Eren broke the kiss with a sorry smile and pressed his mouth to the man's jaw instead. 'Morning stubble,' the younger noted promptly.

Levi's hands went groping under the sheets.

'Morning wood,' the older man remarked, having found what he had gone searching for. 'Not helping you with that.'

Eren laughed and placed one last, chaste kiss at the corner of the older man's lips.

'Fine... I'll accept anything I can take, sir. Remember?'

The reporter’s voice brought Levi crashing back to the present. ‘We’re bringing you these images Live from Brianne district, Helum Towers. There was a fire accident in the early hours of—’

Levi's grey eyes remained fixed on the image of that twelfth-floor apartment. There was a whirl of smoke still rising from the open balcony, spiralling higher and higher until it melted against Trost's sky of dwarf light.

Farlan turned to Levi, concern written over his features.

‘I’m not wrong, am I? Isn't that your—'

There was a pause.

Rivaille Levi said nothing, watching his home burn in the cold silence.

 

 

* * *

 


	46. Most Wanted

 

 

Chapter-46- Most Wanted

~.~

 

Three years ago, PeaceCorp Squad Leader Lt. Hanji Zoe had been accosted by a capricious youth outside her home in Mollusc. It was an uptown district in Titan, and the neighbourhood had its perks like its proximity to Titan's Research Unit and Laboratory. Plus, she didn't have to deal with the hassle of mundane air traffic or need honk her horn at every citizen on the airway. Considering how much Moblit worried over her flying skills (she had six overdue speeding tickets from the air traffic controller, four 'no show' notices from the civil court), so without a doubt, Moblit Berner was more relieved than anybody else when she decided to move to Mollusc. These days her second in command chauffeured Hanji wherever she needed to be. For purchases, to the communion bath, army headquarters, wherever the hell Hanji had to be, Moblit Berner was there to escort her. It was an arrangement that benefitted all parties in the deal. Moblit was happy, Hanji was happy and so were the folks in the air traffic control room.

But how the boy sleuth had ever figured out where Hanji lived, she couldn't say.

The name of that capricious boy sleuth was Eren Jaeger. And three years ago, he arrived on her doorstep to ask her to be the witness to their civil union.

Hanji had declined politely. Because, by law of the land, witnesses could only be civilians and not officers of the State.

That was three years ago. It was strange how her answer had not changed in these three years. Nor had the look of half desperation and perseverance changed on the young peacekeeper's face. Eren was standing before the door to her home, covered in soot and dust. There were two other shadows in the hallway— faces unknown to her— but Hanji's eyes were trained on Eren. She crossed her arms and considered him. Taking off her glasses, she sighed. There were dark shadows under her eyes, signs that she hadn't been sleeping well either.

'Eren…' she said, reaching out with a hand. She caught the thread around his neck and fished out the gate key. 'You got it back, huh? And by Nyse, you're here now. _Why_ did you come back?'

The young man gave a low growl. He didn’t pull any of his punches, not when he was raving mad.

'Because no one was answering my calls,' he cut in. 'Not one fucking person. You don't just drop a bomb on me and not pick up my call! That's now how it works, Lieutenant. _Levi missing, search on, don't panic._ Just six words is all the communication I got. How the hell was I _not_ supposed to panic?'

The Squad Leader watched him with faint interest, her expression subdued.

'You're right, Eren. It was wrong of me to worry you.'

There was a strained silence. Eren rubbed his elbow, looking at his feet. It was a long while before Eren mustered his courage to look at her, and he broached the subject.

'Did you find him?'

Hanji Zoe put on her glasses, averting her gaze to the hallway where his two friends stood.

'No,' she replied with a shake of her head. 'But we found a body at the crash site. Charred beyond recognition.'

Eren inhaled sharply at those words, pressing a hand over the bridge of his nose. There was a long, hard silence, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

'It's not him,' Eren finally said, looking past her shoulder. Almost as if he were trying to persuade himself. 'I won't believe it. I know him, Hanji. This is not the way—'

Hanji chewed on her bottom lip and wondered if she should squash that false hope of his.

'It wasn't just the body, Eren. The corpse matched his height and teeth records.'

Eren shook his head again. '— no, I won't believe it.'

Hanji held up her hand, pointing at the ring finger.

'There was also a wedding ring found at the site. We ran a check, and it was his.'

Eren flinched at that and looked at her, running a hand through his hair vexed.

'So, you're telling me you guys gave up? Is that what you're trying to tell me?' asked Eren. ‘That you gave up?’

Hanji smiled.

'It's been a month, Eren. Of course, they gave up. The PeaceCorps did. Erwin did, most to my surprise. But not his squad or me. I take the lives of my comrades very seriously, you know. I knew him longer than you did, Eren. I hope you remember that.'

Eren regretted his accusation and removed the hand from his hair. He lifted his face and met her gaze.

‘Where did it crash?'

'Outside Maria,' the bespectacled woman answered. 'But if you're thinking about going there, I REFUSE to help you. Maria is the land of the outlaws. It's dangerous and we have no jurisdiction there.'

'Lieutenant, _please_ —'

'No,' the squad leader crushed all his protests with a stern, reproving look. 'Listen here, Eren. If we were to believe he is alive,' she took a deep breath and grit her teeth, choosing her next words carefully. 'If we were to bank on the remotest possibility that Levi is still alive out there… then I'm sure he doesn’t want anyone to come looking for him.'

'Oh yeah? And why is that?' Eren asked, looking incensed now. 'What was so goddam important? Saving the universe? Getting himself killed? Lying to his own husband and selling me out to the State? What the hell was his mission?'

Hanji watched him unflinchingly. She gave him a small smile.

'Protecting you. What else?'

Eren was rendered speechless at that revelation. The young peacekeeper took a deep breath and shook his head.

'I am not a kid, Hanji. I am not the fifteen-year-old kid who tumbled out of his bathtub. When are you guys going to realise that? He needs saving as much as I do.'

 

 

 

 

 

Trost Army Headquarters was a lotus shaped glass monolith with the new helipad cantilevering in its middle. It had three entrances on the north, north-western and eastern wings. Eren had been in and out of this place countless times in the past, but he'd never paid attention to what a heavily guarded fortress it was. There were armed bots and surveillance cameras posted at every entrance. The doors slipped open and close, people sporting military colours walking in and out the luminous doors. PeaceCorps far fewer in between. He strained his eyes to catch sight of anyone familiar. Anyone who would be willing to help him. He was running out of choices. And he was running out of _time_. How long could a carcass remain untouched in the Titan desert?

Standing in the alley across HQ, Eren kept to the shadows. He bit the ragged nail of his thumb, thinking of a plan.

Armin and Jean were quiet behind him. Well, as quiet as they could ostensibly be. His two friends were whispering behind his back like a pair of conspirators.

Eren chewed at his thumb nail, deep in thought.

He had hoped Hanji would take his side. Her refusal to help had been a hurdle he had not expected. Not Squad Leader Hanji Zoe. It was weird how though Levi wasn't here, everyone was still taking the man's side. They trusted the Corporal's judgment even when the bastard wasn't here. What would Levi have done if it were him? Yeah, what would that pokerface have done?

Called Eren an idiot, no doubt.

Eren stared into the distance, feeling the bitterness surge through him.

An idiot. A moron. A one-armed freak. Even sunshine.

He wouldn't mind the names. If it meant hearing Levi's voice again. Even if it was once. Even if it was only to be mocked. Just to make sure he was out there somewhere and alive.

'Uh... Eren,' he heard Armin call.

Eren's eyes flashed to the doors of the Titan Army Headquarters. If the seniors refused to help him, whom did he have left? There was just one name in his mind. Should he risk meeting the fellow PeaceCorp here or—

'Eren!' Armin elbowed him.

The brunet turned to his best friend.

'What?' Eren demanded of the blond.

Armin gave him an aggravated look. 'What the hell do you mean by ' _what_ '? We've been roaming like nomads since last night. I haven't had a decent night's sleep. And I stink like stale tuna! And this backpack is killing me!' Armin tattled his list of complaints, topaz eyes moving furiously from Jean to the brunet. 'I don't know what fuel you guys run on, but I am HUNGRY! We need to crash at some place.'

Eren agreed, giving the blond boy an apologetic look.

'I'm sorry, Armin. I just need some time—'

Armin growled. 'Look, pal, I get why he is important to you. But don't you dare forget about _us_.'

Eren squared his shoulders at this veiled threat. He turned to look at the shorter boy. 'When did I ever forget about you guys?' he started to ask.

Armin Arlert gave him that look again.

The one his buddy used when Eren would suggest copying from his assignments or if Eren refused to be drawn out of his bed for those ridiculous eight am classes. Armin clicked his tongue. 'Eren, will you hurry up and take notice?'

Eren looked at him, puzzled.

'Notice what?'

Armin sighed and reached for Jean's hand, which the other PeaceCorp had kept stuffed into the pocket of his parka. Jean resisted at first, but Armin gave the man a murderous glare and forced the arm out for Eren's benefit. 'Notice THIS,' Armin said, pointing to the singed skin on Jean's left hand. The fingers were seared red and glistening, scalded from the fire of last night.

Eren looked up at Jean's face but the ashbrown didn't meet his eyes.

 

 

Armin's stomach rumbled as he sat at one of the bar stools, wringing his hands on the polished granite counter top. The pub was empty, and Eren vowed it was empty most of the time. That comment did not amuse the patron of the establishment who threatened to kick Eren out if he made another pot-shot at his livelihood. Eren had merely smiled. The bartender and Eren had some sort of a weird bromance going on, which Armin wasn't jealous of. Nope, not at all. Seriously, he was cool with it. It didn't bother him. Apparently, Eren did not just have a secret life, a secret husband, but he also had secret friends too. Secret friends who obviously got to go to the _oh-so-secret_ wedding while he, Armin Arlert –the one true childhood bestie, wasn't even invited. Yeah... Armin was totally cool with it. Armin wringed his hands again, looking a little furious as he gave his surroundings a critical eye.

The Diablo was a crummy looking place with jaded, outlandish décor, and the master cum bartender Reiner Braun was watching television astutely. Armin bit his tongue, correcting his terms. The man was watching the ‘telescreen’ and cooking chickpeas with funny looking meat chops.

'So, what's cooking?' Armin asked, pointing to the meat. He was almost fearful of the answer.

'Oh, some veggies and my speciality— two headed eel,' Reiner answered nonchalantly.

Two headed... eel?

Armin went blue and resisted the urge to barf.

The hunk threw a towel over his shoulder and looked at the boy in concern. 'You have a problem with eel?' Reiner asked. 'Why? You allergic or somethin'?'

Armin clasped a hand around his mouth and shook his head. His voice was muffled when he spoke. 'Oh no. Go right ahead. You're the...um… boss,' Armin said, waggling his fingers in mock encouragement. 'Uh, where are my friends?'

'The store room.'

Armin nodded though he wondered inwardly if it was judicious to leave Eren and Jean in the same room together.

Reiner tossed the contents of his saucepan, sautéing the chunks of the two-headed eel.

Armin felt the bile rise in his throat, and the blond boy went blue again.

 

 

 

 

Jean was having troubles of his own. Oh, he was in big trouble alright. For one thing, the Mephistopheles demon was back in his head, whispering sweet nothings into his ears and giving ideas. And they were no innocent ideas either. His conscience was nowhere to be found in this repartee. The saintly side of his soul must have drowned in the sweet puddle of his own sin. Jean blamed it on the cramped space of the store room. Jean blamed it on the fact that he was finally alone with Eren Jaeger, and he was being doted upon like an injured puppy in a vet's office. Jean revelled in the attention.

Of course, the barrage of insults was still there.

But Eren looked guilty through the banter. His heart wasn't into it. As if it was a facade he was putting on only for Jean's amusement.

'You're a junkie on a glory trip, aren't you? You fucking burnt my home, and now I gotta nurse you. Know what, you deserved it. I hope it hurts like hell,' he said, tugging at Jean's hand and cleaning the burns.

Au contraire, Jean was in second heaven.

Jean watched the top of Eren's head as the brunet pressed a cooling pad to Jean's left hand. The brown haired PeaceCorp proceeded to pull out a tube of salve out of the first aid kit. Wrenching the lid off and throwing Jean furious looks all while he nursed, the boy applied the salve to the seared skin on Jean's hand. Eren’s hand was surprisingly gentle. His fingers were calloused around the edges, but they were soft and fleshy in the right spots. And that crazy demon Mephistopheles was already singing in Jean's head, singing a rhyme about salve and lotion, about French kisses that never happened, none of which sounded innocent. Innuendoes thick in the air, Jean forced himself to stare up at the ceiling, wondering who the hell he had inherited these lewd thoughts from. His old man without a doubt. It couldn't have been from his dentist mother. Perversion didn't run in that side of the family.

'You're an idiot,' mumbled Eren again, drawing Jean out of his reverie. 'Don't you dare call me a suicidal bastard next time,' Eren muttered under his breath. ‘Pot calling the kettle black, much?’ There was the smell of aloe and antiseptic in the cramped air of the store room. And it didn't help the situation. Nor did the semi darkness.

Jean watched the guy in muted silence, watched him in growing fondness.

Eren looked up at him in concern.

'Why do I have to keep owing you favours, man?'

Jean said nothing and let Eren rant.

'Why didn't you tell me, Seabiscuit? That you were hurt. Was it your inflated ego, Secretariat? Too big a man to admit you're  hurt?'

Eren didn't get an answer again. Instead, a hand curled around his messy brown hair and pulled him in against a broad shoulder. This was the second time Eren found himself in the ashbrown's embrace. Jean nuzzled his cheek, prodding Eren to be quiet.

The brunet resisted, startled by the hug.

'What the heck is this?' Eren asked in a low voice. 'Lemme go.'

Jean shrugged and heaved a sigh.

'Just shut up and don't move. For heaven’s sake, Jaeger, stop talking for once. Admit it... we _both_ need this.'

Jean's injured hand was still held between Eren's fingers, trapped in the enclosure between their chests. The brown-haired peacekeeper finally stopped the struggle to get away, and he let out a restive sigh. Jean risked bringing down his other arm and when the angry idiot didn't protest, the ashbrown wrapped it gingerly around Eren's shoulders, drawing him in. A part of him relaxed that there were no complaints. A part of him was elated that Eren was letting him do this.

'I shouldn't have brought you guys here,' Eren regretted into the silence. His voice sounded muffled and heavy against the taller man's shoulder.

'Shit happens,' was Jean's eloquent reply.

'It's only the beginning, Kirstein. It's only the beginning.'

'I can handle it. So can Armin. And so will you. If there's anything I can count on, I know you never give up. You persevere in everything you do, Jaeger.'

Eren stiffened against him.

'Was that a compliment?' he asked, one eyebrow raised suspiciously.

Jean smirked.

'Yeah. Memorize it because you won't hear me praise you again.'

Eren nodded with a barely-there smile.

'Gotcha,’ he said. ‘Glad to hear your ego talking again. I missed it.’

‘Did you?’

Eren gave his partner the stink eye before looking down to examine the injured hand pressed between them. Jean watched him finish the dressing despite the cramped space, and the self-conceited little shit looked impressed with himself. 'Too bad we're not back home,' trailed Eren, giving Jean's hand one final look of appraisal.

'Why?'

'I could have scribed your exams for you. That would help settle one debt I owe you.'

'As if you have the brains,' snorted Jean before grinning mischievously. 'But y’know, there are other ways for us to settle scores,' Jean suggested thickly. He felt it again, the pounding in his temples and the tingling in his chest. His eyes darted between Eren’s eyes and those enticing lips of his, and Jean leaned in against his better judgment.

It was a bad idea on hindsight.

Because Eren drew back quickly, hitting his back against a shelf of the store room, eyes wide in dread. And there was that weird expression on Eren's face again— he looked troubled now, so confused. A silence enveloped them, full of awkwardness and despair, and they could hear the telescreen blaring in the pub's main hall, the faint sounds of a conversation happening between the bartender and Armin. Jean cursed mildly under his breath. Why did he have to go and do that, ruining the moment? He chided himself.

Eren watched him and cleared his throat, breaking the ice.

'I gotta... go,' he whispered, eyes shifty. 'Take care of that hand of yours,' said a visibly distressed Eren. He decided to put away the first aid kit and moved away from the embrace, leaving Jean sullen at the loss of warmth. Jean watched Eren as the boy returned the first aid box to the shelves of the store room, his back looking taut, when he turned to leave.

'Jaeger,' Jean called.

Eren stopped at the door and after a moment of hesitation, glanced at him.

'If you don't find this guy,' Jean said, looking down at his injured hand. 'If you don't find the guy, can you give this a chance?'

'Give what a chance?' Eren asked him. 

He shouldn't have asked.

There was a tension before Jean met his gaze with a hard one.

'Us,' said Jean.

There was no smile on his partner's face this time.

 

 

 

_Behind mock ceremony of your grief,_

_Lurked the burlesque instinct of the ham,_

_You never altered your amused belief,_

_That life was a monumental sham._

Dirge for a Joker, Sylvia Plath

 

 

Dinner was Caesar salad, chick peas and a two-headed eel. Armin was suddenly missing Chipotle and Taco bell.

Eren didn't eat, and Armin nudged him with a fork.

'You gotta eat. You will exhaust yourself at this rate.'

'I'm fine,' said Eren, his eyes fixed on the telescreen, and the soap opera running on it.

Armin didn't buy his sorry excuse.

'Do you want me to ask Jean to spoon-feed you?' Armin suggested slyly.

'Hey!' Eren and Jean protested indignantly and realising that they had spoken at the same time, they looked away in embarrassment. The awkwardness of the store room conversation still lingered in the air between them. Armin knew something had transpired between the two. He didn't know what it was, but he could make his guesses.

Eren remained flustered, and he scowled to hide his discomfort.

'Who the hell wants to be fed by the Trojan Horse over there!'

'Hey, I wasn't offering either,' Jean retorted, equally miffed.

The bartender cast a disgruntled look at the three idiots before him.

'Alright then,' grumbled Reiner, reaching for the food he had painstakingly cooked. 'If it's such a torture to eat my food, you ingrates can starve for all I care—'

Eren stopped the man from pulling away their plates and thanked him profusely. 'No, we will eat. Thanks for the food, Reiner. Appreciate it, man.'

And they did appreciate it. They gorged down the meat chops and salad, hungry as they were. Reiner looked pleased with himself and untied the apron around his barrel chest. He was watching the telescreen, because his favourite drama was on. The moment of happiness didn't last long. Because the soap opera 'Desperate Husbands' suddenly went into intermission, and there was a State bulletin.

The trio stared in astonishment— Armin almost gagging on his eel meat— when they caught sight of the grainy pictures on the screen.

The voice of the broadcast was feminine, but it sounded deep, nasal and foreboding.

'THIS IS A SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT. The public are hereby informed that these two Earthborns are wanted by the Military Police. Do not attempt to contact, apprehend or detain any of these suspects. They are to be considered armed and dangerous. I repeat: they are ARMED and DANGEROUS! Approach with caution and if sighted, contact the nearest hub.'

There appeared two mugshots on the screen. Along with the crimes listed below the boys' unflattering pictures. Jean's photo was from the PeaceCorp files, Jean looking smart with that picture-perfect goofy smile of his. Armin's looked like it had been cropped and magnified. The profiles read:

JEAN KIRSTEIN: Caucasian male. Earthborn. Age 23. Wanted on two counts of murder and tailgating.

ARMIN ARLERT: Caucasian male. Earthborn. Age 22. Wanted for fraudulent activity, sale of drugs and illegal entry to Titan.

'What the—!' Jean blurted out, his fork dropping to his plate with a clatter. ‘By Jove, this is bad!’

Armin's reaction was more surprising.

'Whoa! How did they get their hands on my highschool yearbook? That was the worse haircut of my entire life!'

Jean craned his neck to give the blond a look of disbelief.

'What the fuck, Arlert. I'm a homicidal maniac, and you're a drug peddler. And seriously, you're worried about your haircut of all things?'

They turned to Eren who was watching the telescreen wide-eyed. And it struck them why.

The broadcast had ended and yet, there had not been a single mention of Eren Jaeger.

 

 

 

 

 

The President of Mechatronics Inc peered over Trost as it stretched below him. A city of blinding lights. A city of fireflies blinking in and out of view. The roads turned and swayed between the tall architectures like the wondrous hips of his third wife. The air was convoluted like the cigarette smoke of his second wife. And the city's magnificence was a lie like his first betrothed. The stodgy man opened the last two buttons of his waist coat, relieved at the extra space filling in. With the telescreen running in his dome office, he took a sip of his purple wine. Purple was rarer than white, more luxurious than red. He called it a gift of the Titan Gods.

His fingers found the access control of the glass window, he flicked it and the window slowly opened to the world below. The wind howled in his ears, and the cold draft slapped him across his double-chinned face. His secretary would reproach him, calling the move reckless and dangerous to his well-being. But bah, after having spent half a day in the stifling, boring dungeons of the Titan Army, surrounded by boring men in uniform, the Company President wanted to remind himself that he was still in control. Still in control of his life and his little empire that he had spent years building. He looked down at Trost again, basking in the vile smell of Titan's greenhouse gases.

Until a shadow fell over him, and he found a masked man hanging upside down in mid-air. A mask of ever-changing inkblots stared at him.

He almost wet his pants in shock.

The President took two steps backwards in fright, his back hitting the corner of his table, and he knocked over the wine glass on his expensive rug. The masked man stuck one knee out into the open window, clasping hold of the lintel and swung himself in. He was agile and landed on his feet, the cables retracting into the folds of his trench coat. The man straightened himself and dusted his sleeve, as if doing acrobatics and stunts was part of his daily routine.

The President of Mechatronics Inc. stuttered as he called out to the Network. 'G-Gale, intruder alert! Call the Polic-'

'Don't bother,' the masked man informed. 'I've disconnected your lines,' the marauder said, jabbing a gloved finger towards the door and the open window. 'And food for thought, you need to work on your security.'

'Wh—Who are you?' the President demanded in a quivering voice.

The masked man considered him. There was a voice but no mouth in the mask to speak them.

'I've got many names. The Hanging Man. Masked Vigilante. Call me whatever the fuck you want. But I prefer to skip the introductions.'

'What do you want from me? Huh? Is it money?'

The visitor gave a scoff.

The stout man persisted. 'Stocks? Bonds? We can negotiate!'

The man in the trench coat looked at him. 'I've got something more expensive to ask for. And you pigs can't cough it up, no matter how much you try.'

'What is it? Name it!'

The masked man strode up to him.

'The truth,' he said in a cold voice.

There was a pause, and the Vigilante drew near him. He reached into his coat and pulled out a grappling gun. Pointing the sharp edge at the man's forehead, he drew a faint line across the man's sweaty skin. 'There was an incident last night,' narrated the hoarse voice behind the shroud. 'Involving four of your housekeeping bots. The official story fed to the press is that your products malfunctioned. But I’m,' spoke the voice behind the mask, '— interested in the _unofficial_ story. I've worked with machines myself and people like yourself. I know what machines can do and what they don't do. Housekeeping droids breaking into civilian homes in the dead middle of the night is unheard of.'

There was a silence.

The President looked at the door, wondering why he hadn't listened to that secretary of his. Should make her my fourth wife, he promised himself.

The masked man gave an impatient grunt. 'Hey, I asked a question, you overgrown pig... I need answers. You better start coughing them up.'

The stout man balked.

'Like I told the press. Mistakes happen. E-Even with machines.'

The Vigilante snorted. 'The Press might have eaten up that load of bullshit, not me,' he said, bringing the gun down and digging the nozzle into his thick neck and earning a choke from the senior. 'The truth, Mr. President. Tell me the truth. It's much more difficult to cough up, isn't it?'

'I—I'm not entitled to speak.'

The masked man gave a low growl and released him. He reached for a paperweight and juggled it between his gloved fingers.

'And I'm not entitled to go around shoving this into people's throats. But I am a dangerous man. And I just might do it because I'm not in a good mood these days.'

The President gasped.

'It was an order from the... State.'

There was a pause. The man with the inkblot face did not seem surprised by that revelation.

'Who exactly?' he prodded.

'I don't know who the orders came from. My sole point of contact is a man called Lawrence. Ask him. Not me. Please leave me alone.'

'Lawrence,' said the man, inhaling deeply. He turned to the open window. 'I see. Thanks for the tip.'

The masked man made to leave when the telescreen's broadcast of 'Desperate Husbands' was interrupted.

'THIS IS A SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT. The public are hereby informed that—'

Levi stopped in his steps. He found himself looking at two faces in the mugshots. Familiar. The blond best friend from Eren's photographs from home, and there was that other guy... from Eren's memories.

'S—Something wrong?' asked the President, wondering why the marauder hadn't left yet.

Levi ignored him and waited for the bulletin to conclude.

The inkblot mask gave nothing away despite the turmoil of emotions behind it. Levi took a deep breath; his worst suspicions confirmed. There was no mention of that familiar name. But he knew. He knew very well.

Because if the troublemaker's friends were here in Titan, it could mean only one thing.

The brat was back as well.

 

 

 

* * *

 


	47. The Fugitives

 

 

Chapter-47- The Fugitives

~.~

 

 

Reiner Braun, despite being a grumpy cook, had his heart in the right place. Before they could set out, he lent them cloaks for camouflage. Dark grey for the two peacekeepers and a cagoule raincoat for the blond. Armin held it between his hands, staring down at the lilac material. Against Jean and Eren's disguises that screamed badassery and spy movies, Armin's hoodie jacket with its little umbrella pattern looked oddly vibrant and… childish. He looked up at Reiner, wondering if the Titan was making fun of him.

‘Are you making fun of me?’ he asked out loud.

The bartender admitted he had nothing else for Armin's size.

'Look ‘ere. I'm not calling you short,' Reiner Braun broke into a long-winded explanation, trying to mollify him. 'It’s just that you're… petite, no, not petite,' Reiner bit his tongue, having caught the glare on Armin's face. 'Alrigh', alrigh', wrong choice of words there. You're—' the hulk sighed, struggling to find a word that best fit Armin's physique. Slender? Boyish? Not-yet-hit-his-growth-spurt-but-getting-there? A pixie?

Beside them, Jean snorted while he put on his cloak and tugged at the drawstring.

'He looks like a girl,' Jean elucidated. 'A _girl_ , yep, that’s the word you're looking for,' the ashbrown offered with a laugh.

Armin’s response was swift. His hand darted out and grabbed Reiner’s rag from the counter— the one the bartender used to clean his glasses with— and aimed the cloth at Jean Kirstein. The rag landed on the ashbrown’s face, planting itself right in the middle and wiping away all of Jean’s cockiness.

Soon, a war of words broke out.

Caught amidst his bickering friends, Eren Jaeger sighed and checked his own supplies, wondering to himself, if he should just hand over his two idiotic friends to the State and collect the bounty for himself. Yeah, that sounded more promising than letting them tag along with him.

Humour aside, Eren couldn’t help but worry. Worry over the news bulletin, worry over what was going to come next, worry if the State was still watching them.

The trash-can behind the bar reeked of leftover eel and squashed wristwatches.

While Eren was still having second thoughts about this trip. What worried him most were Jean and Armin. Was he so hell-bent on finding Levi that he was willing to risk his buddies along the way? Was that one guy worth so much? Especially after all the things the man had said and done. Eren’s jaw tightened, anger coming to fissure and crack along the plains of his heart. To keep his thoughts in check, he grunted and rummaged through his backpack, setting its contents in order, and in the process, found something buried deep in it.

It was a sweater. Grey. Grey like the eyes that he could no longer see. Grey like the blurred lines between black and white. Eren felt his mother’s calmness wash over him.

Before they left the pub 'Diablo', Eren caught Reiner's shoulder and made the man promise him something.

'Reiner,' Eren said in a low voice, away from the earshot of his friends. 'Please swear to me that you won't rat out these guys. If they're here, it's for me. They're _not_ criminals. They’ve done nothing wrong, believe me.'

Reiner turned from the offending hand on his shoulder to Eren's fierce gaze.

'It's okay, kid,' the hunk assured him. 'You folks were never here. You never leeched on me, and I was never an accomplice in your getaway.'

Eren nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing. He exhaled, letting relief flood him. He shot Reiner a grateful smile.

'Thanks, man. I owe you one.'

Reiner disagreed, waving his hand in dismissal.

'Nah, you owe me helluva lot. I'll just put it on your growing tab,' Reiner said, before shooing the fugitives out of the pub’s backdoor and sending them on their way.

 

 

 

Darkness shrouded the streets. It was nineteen hundred hours in the world of Titan; the subway station that Reiner had recommended was deserted like he'd promised. All they had for company was a vandalized marble statue of the cult goddess Titania. She was carrying her child Nyse in her arms. The infant god was said to be the son of Titania and the sun Mael. Religion had become decadent in the world of Titan, people having chosen to rely on mecha gods than ethereal entities. Hence, the vandalism. Hence, the graffiti on the walls. Hence, the life of the clergy being a rigorous trial every day.

When the trio walked past the statue, Armin could have sworn the head of the mother and child twisted in their necks.

Armin gulped and sidled close to his pals. He pulled at Jean's cloak sleeve.

'Um, guys,’ he hissed, darting looks behind him. ‘This might sound strange, but I think that weird statue is watching us.'

Jean mumbled an expletive and pulled the hood over his head. 'Be on your guard, Armin. After that bulletin, the whole world is watching us now,' the ashbrown gave a low growl. 'I can't believe those assholes. I worked under them for eight years, and this is how they repay me. I might commit some actual murders to tick them off.'

Armin was still preoccupied with the marble figures. The blond looked back to check on their trail and was relieved to find the statue back in its original pose, eyes trained on the road.

Eren noticed none of it. He fished out a note from his pockets.

Standing on the subway platform, he studied it under the faint light. The note was old and crumpled, having survived three laundry cycles in Eren's jeans. It contained directions to the fellow's home. Eren knew this was his last resort. If there was one person he could count on, who could help him… it had to be _this_ guy.

The note read—

'Take the subway at Brianne; take a rapitrans (short distance supersonic subway train) to the sixteenth district, a largely underground YMCA neighbourhood. Get down at the Jeunesse stop, walk out the station's east exit, wave to the ticket master (he won't wave back; he got mugged three years ago and lost the motor unit to his artificial brain). Keep walking... Keep walking for two blocks until you come to the signboard of an abandoned art museum. Take the two flights of stairs down. Go past the vending machine. Take a right. And… you'll find _me_.'

So, ended the message on a cheery note.

Eren held the bit of parchment in his hand, a smile lingering on his lips. His comrade had given it to him in their training days when Eren had been stuck at Corps quarters on his day off. And Eren had been itching to wander around Trost and see the sights of the city. Especially the _lesser_ known parts. Like the subway network and the underground dumps— the subterra. There was a joke in the world of Titan. A person's wealth is directly proportional to the level you are living on.

Eren realized the true meaning of that proverb on his first visit to Jeunesse.

And now, he was going back again.

They took the rapitrans and got down at the Jeunesse stop just like the note asked them to. There was that ticket master, and Eren waved to the android (for old time’s sake). He led his friends beyond the art museum and down the two flights of stairs to the subterra. And finally, they were there. In the heart of Jeunesse.

Most students lived on State subsidy and hence, the underground habitat came into being. There were no skyscrapers in the subterra layers, the low dome ceiling made it impossible. Townhouses stood vacant and lonely on the sides of the gavel street. Renaissance architecture and sculptures gave the whole neighbourhood a neoclassical aura.

Eren led his two friends to the vending machine. He made the right turn. And sure enough, there was the man. Sitting cross-legged on the front porch, reading with the aid of an emergency light.

In this universe of chaos, in a world of irreconcilable disorder, Eren was glad that some things never changed.

Eren stopped at the gates and chuckled softly.

'You're still a nerd, Freckles. I don't believe it.'

Sitting on his front porch, Marco looked up in surprise.

The recognition came a little slow.

'Eren?’ he said, eyes going wide. ‘Is that you?'

'Yo,' Eren greeted with a smile. 'The one and only.’

Marco rose to his feet, confounded. ‘I thought you went back to earth.’

Eren shook his head, his jaw set. ‘Marco. You remember how we swore eternal brotherhood back when Shadis vowed to make our life a living hell?’ he smiled at the memory before looking up to meet Marco’s gaze with determination in his own. ‘Am I still your brother? Because I need to cash in on a favour.’

 

 

  

 

The book that Marco Bott had been reading was titled 'Nausea'. It fell to the ground, forgotten since Marco had nodded and given Eren a one-armed hug. Between the two of them, one couldn't say who was happier to see the other.

'I thought I'd never see you, Eren. And yes… I think I already know what you're going to ask me.'

Marco turned to the other visitors.

'But first, who're these people? Your friends?'

Armin removed his hood, giving a sullen expression at the tall man. The blond boy cleared his throat and extended his hand out.

'Yeah. I'm Armin. Regular college guy turned extra-terrestrial fugitive. Quantum mechanics is my specialty and…’ he rolled his eyes,’ – also apparently, drug peddling,' Armin finished his introduction grumpily.

Marco nodded, shaking the shorter boy's hand in amusement.

He turned to the other stranger.

'And you are?'

The ashbrown removed the hood of his cloak.

Jean ignored the proffered handshake.

'Name's Jean.'

Marco stared at the man, blinking at the name. 'Jean…' he repeated aloud. 'Hebrew. Yahweh has graced. Isn't that what it means?'

Jean looked at the freckled man in nothing short of surprise. No one in the entirety of Jean Kirstein's life had ever tried to find the meaning of his name. And the last person he expected to know it... was a goddam Titan.

‘I guess,’ Jean said with a roll of his eyes, unsettled by the camaraderie the other man displayed. 'But I think you Titans are associating me with a serial killer right now.'

Marco winced.

'Ah right, I did see that news bulletin.'

'And you aren't afraid of us?' Armin asked him suspiciously.

Marco's gentle smile never left his face. He turned to Eren and wrapped an arm around his shoulders again.

'No. I trust Eren's judgment. And I don't think anybody named Jean and Armin could be criminals.'

Eren smiled despite himself.

'If only all Titans were like you, Marco,' chaffed the brown-haired peacekeeper.

The tall Titan motioned towards the door to his house. 'Come inside. I don't think it's wise to dally here.' Marco said, giving the road a precarious glance. He turned to Eren and gauged the serious expression on the younger's face, cutting straight to the chase. 'So, let me guess. You need a ride to Maria?'

'You know a way?'

'Getting out is easy. Coming back is what worries me,' replied Marco as he led his friend into the house.

Armin and Jean were left at the gates, the blond looking slightly miffed. The short boy scratched his head.

'Jean, I get where you're coming from. A husband, I could wrap my head around. A robodog, yes. A girl with an alligator tank, sure. But how many people does Eren know on this side?'

He turned to Jean, hoping to get some empathy out of the guy.

Instead, Jean was grinning at him, looking happier than he'd been in days.

Armin gave him a narrow look.

'What? What's that smug face for?'

Jean held up his hands, making a fist on his right and a finger on his left.

'Earth best friend 0. Titan best friend… 1,' Jean tallied the invisible score and slapped Armin's back. He leaned in to Armin's ear and added. 'Welcome to my world, shortie. Enjoy your stay with the green monster,' he hissed and left the blond behind as he ventured into the Titan's house.

Armin remained frozen by the gates. He realized there was an irony mixed somewhere here. How no one could monopolise Eren Jaeger all for themselves.

Well, no one except for that _one_ man he kept searching for.

Was this devotion?

Love?

Armin didn't know. He'd pick quantum theory over romance any day.

 

 

 

 

Marco's place was a cramped boarding room, the floor overflowing with books and the ceiling clouded with red-yellow paper lanterns. The freckled boy smiled sheepishly at them.

'Sorry for the mess. I guess my hobbies speak for themselves.'

‘Origami?' asked Armin incredulously.

'Books?' asked Jean, even more amazed. 'How the hell are you this guy's friend?' Jean demanded of him, sticking a thumb in Eren's general direction. 'I've never seen that dork read.'

'Hey! That’s uncalled for. I own books too!' came Eren's indignant reply from the other end of the room. The brunet had collapsed next to the large bay window, and he shifted the curtains a little to check on the road outside. No one seemed to have paid attention to their coming. Good. So far, so good. But Eren was growing paranoid with every minute they spent here. He didn't know how far they'd be able to get without someone eventually recognizing their faces. Once ratted out, how long would it take for Titan to apprehend them?

'Speaking of books,' said Armin, calling for Eren's attention. 'The old lady told me to give this to you, Eren.’

Eren turned to his best friend and shot him a puzzled look.

‘Huh?’

‘Your apartment, doofus. The old lady from next door,' explained Armin and opened his backpack to shuffle through it. He grabbed a small cardboard box from inside and tossed it to Eren.

Eren caught the box nimbly and looked down at it in surprise. Something dull rattled inside it.

'Next door?’ he echoed. 'You mean… Mrs Norman gave this to you?'

Armin nodded.

‘Uh huh.’

Eren stared unblinkingly at the box.

The conversation behind him resumed from the subject of Eren, the Slacker to The Hundred Most Embarrassing Moments of Jaeger's Life— Marco, Armin and Jean contributing generously to the theme— swapping stories and scandals from their own shared history. Eren left them to it though a smile did make its way across his face. It was surreal to see them together, his friends from both worlds mingling, talking and cracking jokes.

‘Eren has always had trouble with authorities,’ Marco observed, looking at Eren warmly.

'How did he even get married,' said Armin, collapsing into a chair. 'Whoever this Levi is, I've got deep respect for the man already. If he could put up with this oaf, he has to be the real saint among us.'

'Hey! I heard that, Armin,' Eren said over his shoulder. 'Not funny, not funny at all. And I'll have you know, Levi was the devil incarnate.'

Eren placed the box on Marco's desk and slipped the lid off. He paused to wonder if Mrs Norman was doing alright and if she’d got mixed up in the fiasco of last night.

He heard Marco chuckle. Freckles smiled in amusement and addressed the other two. 'Well... I wouldn't call the Corporal a saint. Nor a devil either. But Eren’s guardian was an intimidating man. Of course, Eren saw through all that.'

‘Oh, man. Don't tell them stuff like that, Freckles,' Eren griped in embarrassment.

'What else should I tell them?'

‘The _dirt_! Give us all the dirt,' said Armin, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

Marco laughed. 'The dirt, huh? Like the time he broke into Levi's apartment, stripped down to his underwear and was still kicked out?'

A silence hung in the air as the Earthborns absorbed this piece of information.

Jean turned and cast a look of disbelief at Eren.

'Christ, Jaeger. Were you _that_ desperate?' Jean asked him.

There was a silence for the brown-haired keeper had gone strangely quiet by the bay window. Eren was looking at the contents of the box, puzzled. He took out the black book from its inside and flipped through the pages. Three photographs slipped out into his hand.

He recognised the Polaroids. He had kept them framed in the apartment of 1263. Now, he knew why they had been missing from the apartment.

There was Eren and his friends.

There was him and his mom.

And, the third… of him and that other guy.

_Rivaille’s face when he smiles._

That wasn't all.

The book surprised him the most. Because he didn't ever remember telling Levi its name.

Paradise Lost, said the title of the book.

And tied to the spine of the tome was a silver band. Eren Jaeger pressed a hand over his eyes and gave a faint nod in response to Jean’s question. Letting the hand fall to the sides, he looked at the book fixedly and clasped his fingers around his wedding ring, prying it away from the book and feeling the cold metal sink into the skin of his palm.

'Desperate. Yes, I was—' Eren answered into the silence, his voice cracking with emotion. ‘— so desperate.’

 

 

 

 

 

'Mrs Jaeger! You shouldn't be leaving your room!'

The woman paused at the door of the Garden of Eden. She turned and found Nurse Robbins hurrying towards her. Robbins in those clean blue scrubs of hers, with the crest of Stanley Memorial Hospital on her chest. There were times when that insignia grated on Carla's nerves. There were times when these four walls made her feel singled out and claustrophobic. This place and its plastic chairs, plastic tables, plastic tumblers.

'It won't be long, Robbie,' she insisted. 'I just need some fresh air,' Carla told her caretaker.

Nurse Robbins gave her the stiff upper lip.

'You haven't had your medication yet, Mrs. Jaeger!'

Carla frowned. 'Yes, the evening dose of Olanzapine, Risperidone… I know, I know. But they make me so dreadfully sleepy,' she gestured for the nurse's attention to the garden alcove. 'Just an hour, Robbie. That's all I want. A little time outside. And I promise I'll take my medicine.'

'You promise?'

Carla nodded.

Nurse Robbins deliberated on it; the nurse looked at her watch and sighed. 'One hour,' the stout woman warned.

'One hour is all I need,' affirmed Carla and thanked the woman for letting her be.

Carla turned the knob in anticipation. All thanks to her son, she had discovered it and now visited often, seeking solace in this secluded garden emporium. She opened the door and walked out into the fresh air outside. She could smell the roses already, beckoning her like a long-lost visitor. But today, amidst those iridescent flowering shrubs, there was someone else. A face she'd never seen before. A young woman, the same age as her son. But her face lacked the animated spirit of Eren. There was no joie de vivre in this stranger. Carla Jaeger recognized the expression on that face. It was the face of someone who'd been hardened by a tough life. Someone who'd seen the dark side of existence. And those vulnerabilities were threatening to crack through the painted, sallow mask beneath.

The young, pale woman sat with her back to the Chrysler Imperial roses, against the vivid colour of red petals and the green of their stalks. And she was smoking. Almost as if she were flouting the very nature she was surrounded by. Carla watched her bring a cigarette to her chapped lips. She took a long drag of the nicotine stick and looked at the sky, searching for something.

'Excuse me, dear. But this is a no smoking zone,' Carla told the young woman.

The girl's blonde head snapped towards Carla and considered her. At the end of her scrutiny, the girl spat out the butt end of her cigarette. Her lips curled into a mirthless smile.

'I'm sorry, my bad,' she said, putting out the embers under her boot. She wore a white tank top, a metal band around her wrist and beige cargo pants.

Carla sat down next to the violets, diagonal to the young woman. 'Thank you for putting that out. I've… never seen you around here before. Are you a resident?'

The young woman shook her head and pointed to the building’s left wing. 'I got lost,' she answered with a blank expression. 'My partner is holed up there,' the girl said, pointing to a room on the fifth floor.

Carla followed the direction of her finger and realised she knew the place. The girl had pointed out the radiation department in the oncology unit.

'I… see.'

The young woman seemed nonplussed, her fingers reached into the pockets of her cargo pants, and she drew out her cigarette pack. Her fingers trembled around it. And realising what she'd been reaching for, she stowed the pack back into her pockets. It was a nervous habit, Carla realised. The smoking.

'What about you, lady?' the girl asked. 'I heard this was the loony bin. You visiting someone too?'

Carla smiled. 'No… I'm a resident. I guess that makes me the loony one here.'

An awkward silence was left in the wake of those words. The girl didn't apologise, but she did look perturbed. Carla smiled, hoping to ease away her discomfort. Mad people always made other people uneasy. It was a hazard of the diagnosis.

'It's alright. Our failings are our own,' Carla said.

There was a silence.

'No,' the blonde woman replied. 'Not always,' she said and was quiet for a long moment before she began stamping her foot on the ground again, across the remains of the cigarette stub. 'Not always, lady. My partner… he’s never smoked in his entire life while I've gone on two packs a day,' her blue eyes looked up at Carla. 'But guess who got the cancer? Karma is a real bitch.'

Carla didn't know what she should say.

'I'm sorry. I hope he gets better.'

The girl gave a simpering smile in return. 'Sorry's just a word. Doesn't solve your fucked-up mind. Doesn't solve my problems either.'

The girl stood up from her seat. She strode up to the older woman and looked at Carla's face, studying it. There was a flicker of recognition in her blue eyes, and the smile lingered on her chapped lips.

'You're… Carla Jaeger, aren't you?' she finally asked.

Carla blinked at her.

'Do I know you?'

The girl smiled.

'He looks just like you… Your son.'

'You’re a friend of Eren? What’s your name?'

There was a pause; the girl's smile grew wide, showing her pearly white teeth.

'Annie. Annie Leonhart.'

 

 

 

 

_Peel off the napkin,_

_O my enemy,_

_Do I terrify?—_

_I do it so it feels like hell,_

_I do it so it feels real,_

_I guess you could say I've a call._

Lady Lazarus, Sylvia Plath

 

* * *

 


	48. Latin Llama

 

 

 

Chapter-48-Latin Llama

~.~

 

 

The trio from Earth were standing under the canopy of an old shed as the rain came pouring down. Water ran in rivulets over the asbestos roof, dripping over the metal edge of the shelter. Jean and Eren sunk back against the shutters while Armin braved the rain. The blond pulled at the sleeves of his cagoule jacket. He may not be donning badass cloaks like the others, he may not look like a commando on a mission... but hey, at least his lilac hoodie was waterproof.

All three were watching Marco negotiate with the truck driver. A human, thankfully. But that didn't make her any easier to persuade. Marco stood in the downpour, holding up a transparent umbrella over his brown head. He was talking to a woman in blue overalls with her curly red hair pulled under a hairnet. She looked old enough to be his mother, and she kept biting the end of a straw, chewing on it philosophically. Worst, she spoke a language that neither of the Earthborn trio could understand. But Marco did.

'Quo?' the woman asked, looking between Marco and the Earthborns.

Marco sighed.

'Maria, matertera. Scisne Maria?'

There was a troubled expression on the woman's face. She mulled over his request in her head.

'Scio. Terra domini malus est, puer. MALUS!'

Marco persisted with his request.

'Intellego. Quando legamus?'

The woman turned to the three boys and gave them a pinched look. 'Maxime,' she said, with a faint nod.

'Gratias tibi ago," Marco broke into a smile.

When he returned to the three young men under the shed, Marco graced them with his reassuring smile. He gestured towards the woman waiting beside the trucker.

'I've arranged a ride for us,' Marco informed them. He folded the umbrella, placed it under the nook of one elbow and put his hands on his hips. His expression was distraught as if he were considering some invisible hurdles along the horizon.

Armin turned to the freight truck and gave the woman a narrow glance, sizing her up. He didn't seem too fond of their chaperone. 'Yeah, but who is she? And doesn't she speak English?'

Marco shook his head. 'Nina knows only Latin.'

'Latin?' Jean echoed, running his hands over his cloak and straightening it. 'Didn't the language go extinct centuries ago?'

Marco looked amused. 'Yes, on earth perhaps. But not in my world,' he said.

Marco turned to Eren. The brown-haired peacekeeper was studying their transit vehicle. Marco noticed the concern on his friend’s face.

'Her name is Nina Burgess, Eren. She can be trusted.'

Eren looked at the woman, his expression skeptic. Trust... He wished Marco hadn't said that. There was bad blood between him and that singular word. He'd believed in others before, it had come easy to him. He'd believed in Annie. He'd believed in Levi for years. But now, his right hand knew better and made him think twice. 'How do you know?' he asked, his eyes snapping to the fellow PeaceCorp. 'How do you know she won't give us away at the first opportunity she gets, Marco?'

Marco didn’t back down.

'Because Nina is my aunt. She is family,' Marco confessed with another bright smile. 'Of course, she has three conditions if we want to hitchhike with her.'

'Which are?' Armin prompted, breaking into their huddle.

'One, she'll give us a ride only till Maria. She needs to get her goods delivered to Utgard by daybreak tomorrow. And her goods are _fragile_.'

Eren agreed to it.

'Second, if we run into trouble, she has all the right to bail out first.'

'Spoken like a true altruist,' Jean remarked with a snort. 'For a minute there, I was beginning to think you Titans almost had a heart.'

Marco pursed his lips but said nothing, letting the remark slide.

'What's the third?' Eren urged.

'As for the third, we should not... uh, disturb her freight,' Marco said, uneasiness lacing his tone.

'Why?' asked Armin, looking at the Titan suspiciously.

Marco gave them a placating smile.

'It's for our own safety, believe me.'

The three stared at him.

 

 

 

 

Jean knew he was going to be the butt of the joke till kingdom come. The freight truck was branded with 'Burgess Ventura' in bright red letters, an arrow striking through the words in the middle. All pretentious and innocent on the outside.

Jean realised that their designated driver (and even Marco) had a quirky sense of humour. Maybe, the funny bone ran in the whole extended family of Botts and Burgesses. Because no one mentioned to him that the truck's cargo was alive and kicking. Yes, kick. Move. Swim. Snort. Neigh. And could even snap its jaws at him viciously.  The truck was like a mini rendition of Noah's ark with two racehorses, a tank of crustaceans, a larger tank housing a hammerhead shark, a caged Oliver Ridley turtle, a Llama with an artificial leg and... themselves, four fucking humans caught amidst the wild circus.

'Wow,' said Armin as he climbed in. 'This place rules! We’re traveling with a zoo, huh?'

'You can say that again,' Eren agreed. He approached the pen of the horses cautiously. 'Aren't you going to introduce us to the family, Kirstein?'  he asked Jean with a grin.

'Mature, Jaeger. Very mature,' Jean said curtly, though inwardly he felt relieved. Were they past the awkwardness of the storeroom conversation? Or worse, was Eren going to pretend it never even happened? Jean felt something stir within him. Heartburn, perhaps, and he wished he'd said more to convince his partner that yes, he was serious. Jean rubbed his injured hand thoughtfully.

It smelled awful inside. As if someone had gone around, searching for the world's most foul-smelling animals and tried to put them together. He didn't know which one he hated the most. The overenthusiastic Llama which kept trying to eat his hair or the constant citchet-catcheting of crabs trying to climb over one another.

The four young men heard the engine start and took their spots at the back of the truck. Marco had a word with his aunt through a tiny flap in the partition to the driver’s cabin.

Marco and Armin slumped down against the side of the freight truck, Armin hugging his backpack and pressing his head into it to catch some shuteye. Marco pulled out his book and began reading under the faint fluorescent light. 'Nausea' was the name of the book. Yeah, Jean felt nauseous himself. He didn't know how the taller man could read in a place that reeked like sewage and someone's barf... but whatever, to each his own.

Jean muttered, kicking the side of one of the crates. The chains clunked dully inside. The floor of the trucker looked clean enough, but it was still a bare metal floor. Jean scowled at his hard life, then put his jacket on the floor and gingerly sat down on it. It'd have to do. If there was one good thing that went Jean's way, Eren chose to sit beside him. Jean watched as Eren Jaeger stretched his legs out in front of him, linking them at the ankles of his jeans. Crossing his arms over his chest, the brunet's chin drooped, and he closed his eyes. The partners sat shoulder-to-shoulder, arms bracing, comfortable in each other's company. 

Jean decided he didn't even mind the horrid truck anymore.

Or even the Llama drooling on top of his head.

 

 

 

 

 

They must have been on the move for forty minutes (Jean wasn't sure, he didn't have a watch anymore) when Armin woke up with a little shriek. His blue eyes flashed about wildly, trying to understand where he was. He found Marco beside him, and relief coursed through Armin. He couldn't explain why but the presence of the tall, gentle alien helped calm his rattled nerves.

'Whoa. I just had the weirdest dream!'

Marco looked at the blond in surprise.

'What was it about?'

'Th—That I was a fugitive running from the law. A—And I was stuck with two assholes in a truck full of potential man eating—' he trailed off.

Armin had caught sight of the shark tank. The hammerhead stared at him before doing a turn in the water. It returned from its jaunt and bared its teeth at him menacingly. Armin gulped, turning away from the ocean carnivore. 'Not a dream, huh?'

Marco gave a small laugh and returned to his book. 'Don't worry, the tanks are well secured. My aunt has been in the livestock business for a long time.'

'Uh huh?' Armin asked, letting his gaze rove around the freight truck again. He spotted the ashbrown first. Jean was awake and looking flustered. _Wait. That’s not right._ No one ought to look hot and bothered when they were running away from the law and forced to hitchhike with deep-blue ocean monsters. Armin discovered the reasons soon enough. And here the existential dilemma became apparent on Jean's face. To swat away the Llama sniffing around his hair? Or let the boy sleeping on his shoulder linger a while longer?

Jean heard a whistle.

He met Armin's blue glare with a spurious lift of his eyebrows.

 _What_?

Jean mimed at the blond.

Armin flicked his eyes towards his best friend— the best friend whose head had lolled to the side and was now nestled in the crook of Jean's shoulder.

 _Whatcha doing?_ Armin demanded, pointing between them.

 _What do you think I am doing? Upping my game,_ Jean mouthed with a half smirk. He raised his hands to deliver the revised scoreboard, holding up a finger on his left and two on his right. _Yeah, that's one point for me and two points for the missing bastard. Hell yeah, I’m catching up, shortie._

Armin flipped him the middle finger.

 _In your dreams, Kirstein,_ Armin mouthed at him. _In your dreams._

Jean looked down at the brown head resting on his shoulder. He avoided the death glares from Armin, even ignored the flea infested animal currently nudging his head... all so he could let Eren sleep. Because Jean knew. Jean knew perfectly well that his partner hadn't slept in days. The peacekeeper tried to hide it. He tried to put on a brave face for the world. But Jean could see through it. And Jean felt a familiar surge of over protectiveness for someone who probably needed his support but didn't ask for it. Though sometimes, this feeling of being unwanted could perhaps hurt the most. Even more than words and even more than silences.

 

 

 

 

 

One hour into the roadway traffic, their chaperone gave a shriek.

'Terminus Custodia! Terminus Custodia!' Nina Burgess yelled, pulling the truck to a slow stop.

Even Eren jolted awake from all the screaming. 'What— What's going on?' he asked, holding his aching head between his sweaty palms. 'What's she saying? Termi-what?'

Marco was talking to his aunt through the flap in the barrier. Words were exchanged furiously in Latin before Marco zipped it shut.

The Titan turned to the three of them, and he looked truly worried for the first time. 'We are at the city gates. But we've got to get through Border Police. They insist on inspecting the cargo... usually.'

Jean frowned, not liking the sound of that. Especially that discreet 'usually' tacked on at the end there.

'What do we do?' Eren asked Marco, looking concernedly at both Armin and Jean. He was sure the Border Police would have received the news bulletin by memo and would know the two by sight. And keeping them under cloak would only raise suspicions. Marco was thinking across different lines.

'Can they hide in the Llama's pen?' the freckled man suggested.

'Hell no!' Armin protested while Jean looked disgustedly at the animal. The white furry gave a snort, enthused by the idea.

'Yeah, no way! That stinker has a crush on me!' Jean put in his two cents.

Marco scratched his nose and sighed softly.

'Sorry, guys. But either it's the Llama or tossing you both in with the hammerhead. The choice is yours.'

There was a silence.

'We'll go with the Llama,' the two fugitives decided in unison.

 

 

 

 

 

They heard heavy footsteps approach them on the concrete outside. Eren and Marco emerged out of the container. The two young men turned the corner and found Nina Burgess talking to the Border Police. It was a team of two men, looking dreary from working the night shift. A tall, lanky man with a crew cut and the other had a goatee. They held totem poles in their hands and a roster.

'Maxime, animals,' Nina was telling them, gesticulating wildly to the truck.

The inspectors gave a curious glance towards the young men.

'And who are they?' asked the one with a crew cut.

'We're her family, her nephews—' Marco lied with ease. 'We're helping with the loading and unloading.'

'Is that so?' the man asked Nina, who nodded feverishly.

The man with the goatee gave a murmur of approval, going through the consignment list.

'You've got hammerhead, huh?' the man said with a wanton smile. 'Haven't had fin soup in a long time!' he turned to his companion. 'What say, Memphis? Shall we check just how good the cargo—'

'No!' Eren blurted out before he could even stop himself.

The two men turned to give him an odd look.

There was a tense silence. Eren wanted to kick himself in the shins. Marco elbowed the boy and held him back. 'Uh, what my friend here means is... it stinks _real_ bad inside. Trust me. We know.'

' _Friend_? I thought you were family!' the inspector cut in.

'Cousins,' Marco re-iterated quickly. 'And I am sure you gentlemen have better freight to be investigating than a bunch of smelly ol’ livestock.'

The two inspectors exchanged wary glances. They looked from Marco to Eren, gauging the two young men suspiciously. After what seemed like an eternity, the man with the goatee shrugged and returned the consignment list to Nina.

'Whatever. Off you go then,' said the inspector, his fingers moving fast over a digital display. ‘Keep your papers in order. Titan Prevails, folks. Titan Prevails.’

Keeping their sighs of relief to themselves, Marco and Eren walked back to the doors of the freight truck and climbed in. While they waited for Nina to start the truck again, Eren glanced at the skyscraper city that loomed ahead of them. They had left the rain and the city behind. Now, they'd be all on their own.

'Thanks, Marco,' Eren acknowledged in the fading silence.

Marco shook his head. 'No problem. And don't thank me. Thank corruption. These folks are supposed to be doing identity checks on all passages. That's what the State is employing them for,' Marco said with an ill frown. Eren understood why the freckled man looked chaffed. Because Marco took the protection of his motherland very seriously. Marco grimaced with a shake of his head.

'Eren.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Will you be able to handle whatever is out there?'

'I have to,' said the younger keeper, rubbing his elbow thoughtfully. ‘Not just for that guy, Marco.’

Marco turned to him, confused.

Eren was watching the metronome crafts in the sky.

'Annie is being blackmailed by the State, Freckles. I couldn't believe it at first. She was the strongest of our batch.'

Marco’s forehead furrowed, mouth setting into a thin line.

‘Annie?’

Eren nodded.

'I guess even the strongest are not invincible,' Marco observed in the silence.

Trust Freckles to be insightful.

'Yeah,' Eren said, letting out a self-deprecating little laugh. He gave his right hand a solemn look, tracing the ring on his finger worriedly.

The engine rumbled to a start, and they found themselves moving again. Eren looked back at the horizon. At the city of blinding lights. At the city where he once had a home. He said goodbye to Trost, said goodbye to the overarching arms of the State.

 

 

 

 

 

The basement hideout had a window with a strong mesh over it, a table and two armchairs. The room was sound-proofed. It was supposed to keep the world at bay, and yet his thoughts were all over the place.

Moloch's artificial arm was a work of art. The fingers were long, black and slender as they moved across the blueprint of the Senate House. The metal skin was smooth, and the time taken for the synapses to connect and relay the motor commands from the brain was phenomenal. Almost like the real thing. Levi, having spent enough time with Hanji, knew the capabilities of the latest paradigm in artificial intelligence and body engineering. But Moloch's prosthetic arm left them all behind by a mile.

But how?

He should have given the question the due thought it deserved, but he was preoccupied. He didn’t want to admit it. No, not before this gadfly.

Though he listened to the drone of Moloch’s voice, Levi found himself watching the door and waiting. His hands were restless, arranging and rearranging the assortment of trinkets on the table: totems, keys and markers. Even the underground don seemed to notice the marked change in his demeanour. There was an agitation in Levi, a growing edge, which hadn't been there before.

'Something bothering you, Vigilante?' Moloch asked him with a sneer. ‘You seem… distracted.’

Levi turned to him and shook his masked head. He reached out with a hand to tap the table unceremoniously.

'You have all of my attention. Go on.'

The door to the basement hideout drew open. Farlan entered from the shadows of the corridor. He gave Moloch a deliberate glance before walking over to the masked man sitting in his chair. The blond man stooped and pressed his mouth to Levi's ear to make his report.

'I checked the tracer,' Farlan whispered. 'You were right. It's heading this way. Your orders, Captain?'

The Vigilante remained silent, measuring his words.

Farlan gave him an earnest look.

‘Your orders, Captain?’ he urged again.

There was a change in the inkblot mask, the dots swirling to a new pattern. Levi noticed Moloch looking straight at him, curiosity evident in those scarred features.

'Nothing,' was all Levi said.

 

 

 

* * *

 


	49. Thunder Bird

 

 

 

Chapter-49- Thunder Bird

~.~

In the commute out of the bubble city, where twilight darkness ruled like a lonely emperor, Eren sat next to Marco and slept fitfully. At times, he would jerk to wakefulness and cast a puzzled glance around. He'd find the others struggling in their own battles with the sandman. Armin and Jean still had sprigs of Llama hay latched on to their clothes, and they would be sleeping rolled against each other's back. The steady thrumming of the engine and the sound of the edgy leviathan swimming in its containment lulled the young men to slumber like a queer lullaby. The sight amused Eren because if you'd told him a month ago that his best friend and best rival would one day journey across the galaxy for him, Eren Jaeger would have never believed it. But he was grateful nonetheless. Eren turned to his right and found Marco dozing under the pages of a book.

They deserved the rest... after all the trouble, he'd brought them.

Rubbing his forearms, Eren closed his eyes and tried courting the sandman again.

Sleep came and so did the dreams. Though he wished his mind would stop conspiring and leave him alone. Because what he was seeing behind his closed lids were not nightmares of the void. They were far, far worse.

It was the past.

The unalterable past sprinkled with the confetti of triumph and mistakes. Like shards of a broken mirror. Like shards of the smashed telescreen.

It was as if he was wearing the TSM and walking down the grey corridor of his memories. Dreams pulled him in and out, his memories merging with was's, could be's and should have been's. His subconscious played its game of roulette, taking him through a lifetime's worth of reminiscences. The white ball would skitter across the numbered years, making him remember the smallest, most insignificant shades and subtleties of a life that seemed lost forever. From the way someone drank their tea, holding the cup by its rim. To the way, that someone tapped the table when they were thinking or trying to find a spot of dirt to grumble about. From the way, impassive grey eyes were constantly watching him and watching _out_ for him, sometimes there being no difference between the two. From the way the rug burned on his naked back, from the way the screen fell off the door... to the way a pale skinned shoulder felt against his mouth and to the way he was chastised for biting and leaving marks.

He was fifteen and was being hauled over a strong-boned shoulder with a promise of being sent home.

He was still fifteen and being kicked and mauled like a rag doll in a show put on for the benefit of the State. Knuckles hitting the soft spaces between his ribs, digging into the flesh. There goes the tooth flying; there’s the glare of Zachlay, the bureaucracy and... the look of indifference on the man's face and the oath of discipline on his lips.

He was sixteen, sitting alone in the Training Corps quarters. Until someone visits him and invites him for a luncheon. He was sixteen, with someone's hand on his cheek and grey eyes searching his green ones for something. Calling him chaos, teaching him many lessons but never once preaching.

He was seventeen and he was being forced to do squats by that foul-mouthed guardian of his. All because Eren had tried to step into the guardian's shoes for once and failed at it miserably.

He was eighteen, and it was a time for firsts. He graduated high school. He graduated the Training Corps, giving Sgt. Keith Shadis three cheers for a job well done. He got selected into his hero's squad. Had his first real kiss. He graduated from the first base of love. The second base. The third base. Until 1263 meant so much more than just a number. If he was a ship-wreck, then that apartment became the harbour to welcome him home.

But it was never enough.

He was twenty and giving a drunken proposal in an alley outside Diablo. It was now or never, Eren knew, and he got himself hauled for the long run.  

He was twenty-two and pitching a ball to the other man on top of a windy helipad. Trying to play catch with a husband eleven years his elder. He was still twenty-two and squabbling for a view of the shaving mirror and reciting drunken poetry from the top of a TJ.

He was twenty-three, lying in a pool of blood and yet, there were arms pulling him into a careful embrace.

He was twenty-three and being told that _everything_ was a lie.

He was now in the present, a hand on his shoulder urging him to wake up. Eren Jaeger opened his eyes and found Marco kneeling before him.

'Sun's come up. Nina says we'll be reaching the site soon,' Marco said, concern evident in his brown eyes. He hesitated. 'Are you... alright, Eren?’

Armin and Jean were standing behind him, their faces showed the same expression.

Was he alright?

Eren blinked groggily at his friends and nodded.

'Y-Yeah,' he said. 'I'm fine. Everything is hunky-dory.'

 

 

 

 

No, he wasn't alright. Nowhere close to hunky-dory.

Not after seeing the crash site.

In the eight years he'd been to Titan, this was the second time he'd been outside of Trost. The only time being his first trial in the Senate's court at Stonehess. He'd been handcuffed, shackled, and there really had been no opportunities for going sight-seeing. All he remembered was the look of suspicion on everybody's faces. Of being an alien in their land. It was a breach unheard of. Never had an Earthborn crossed over from the other side, on their own accord. It worried them, his gall, his spirit and his passion to stay.

There was a layer of grey dust over the charred remains of the TJ. He knew the vehicle. He had known it, ridden it in the company of that one man... before it turned into the carcass it was now. But that didn't mean he recognized it. Charred wires hung from the belly, nothing remained of the fuel tank but a lingering oily stain. A wing was smashed against the rocks. The cockpit was black, blacker than charcoal and falling apart like rust. So was the seat of the controls. The glass of the windshield was broken, and the frame mangled like a twisted hangar. There was the silhouette marked on the ground. An outline of white chalk, where supposedly the body was found.

Though he wanted to deny it, though he wanted to reject the very idea, he had to concede that the height matched. So, did the build.

Eren sank on the ground, staring at the crude white outline on the grey sand. It was already beginning to fade. In the time it had taken for him to come to Titan, to reconcile himself with his feelings and take that leap across Castor bay to tumble into this world... time hadn't stood still. Of course, it _wouldn't_ stand still. Time waited for no one, least of all for a useless brat who couldn't protect anything or anybody.

The silhouette lines were already being consumed by this desolate land, lines being eaten away by Titan's harsh, ugly nature. There was the desert breeze, blowing through his greasy hair, softly mocking him. For risking so much for a man who might be actually… dead.

He could hear Nina Burgess leaning against her driver side door and munching on roasted cashews. He could feel the other's stares boring into his back, probably accusing him of leading them on a wild goose chase. How would he face them now?

He heard one of them creep to his side. The steps were languorous as they reached him.

Eren recognised the boots.

Jean gave a low whistle at the wreckage.

'So, what now?' Jean asked. Eren heard him pick at the silence, giving a humourless laugh. Jean cast a look at the alien desertland that stretched before them for leagues and leagues. Maria was apparently five miles ahead, but they couldn't see it beyond the dunes and water encrusted rocks of the land. The terrain was barren, save for outcropping and shelled weeds. 

Eren said nothing, tracing the white outline before him.

Jean wasn't done.

'What's next in the list, Jaegermeister? The morgue? Gonna exhume the body? Are you going to turn us into grave diggers next?'

Jean watched the boy get up. Eren said nothing.

The peacekeeper turned around and began walking past him. The cold shoulder surprised the ashbrown. Jean grabbed for the boy's cloaked arm and forced the brunet to face him.

'Hey, I'm talking to you! Don't you dare walk away! Aren't you—'

The hood had fallen back, revealing the face. And it was a sight that most did not get to see. Because there were tears clinging to the boy's lashes, the mouth parted, lower lip quivering ever so slightly.

Jean was rendered silent. He opened his mouth and closed it again, searching for something appropriate to say. Or searching for a foot to insert in because great, now he was about to make Eren cry. Eren Jaeger, that massive dipshit who was always insulting him, always looking for trouble... seemed distraught and inconsolable. Like that time in the woods. Like that time in Mardis theatre.

Eren yanked his arm free, threw the hood back over his head and darted past him without a word.

'Where... where are you going?' Jean demanded.

He heard the muffled snort from the boy, voice cracking as he spoke.

'The morgue. I will turn into a fuckin' grave robber if I have to.'

'Jaeger... JAEGER!' called Jean. 'Eren!'

But his partner did not pause to hear him out. Eren walked away, passing the freight truck without so much as a glance to his other friends.

Jean stood frozen in his spot and ran a frustrated hand through his ashbrown hair. He risked a look at the others.

Armin was watching Jean with his mouth agape.

'You are a JERK! A ginormous effing _jerk_! What did you do that for?' Armin castigated him before the blond broke into a run, chasing Eren's fading form across the horizon.

Marco stood by the freight truck, silent and observant. Nina Burgess, having seen the drama unfold, resumed munching on her cashew nuts. To be honest, the Latina couldn’t care less for drama.

Jean heaved a sigh and joined the Titans.

'Let me guess. You think I've got a big mouth too?' asked Jean, leaning against the side of the truck. He scratched his nape, feeling remorseful for the things he’s blurted out.

There was an agonising silence that was heavier than the smog of Titan's atmosphere.

Marco shook his head.

'No, you're the devil's advocate. And everyone needs to hear the harsh truth at times.'

Jean turned to him startled.

'You think... I did the right thing?'

'Depends on your intention,' the freckled man said with an effervescent smile. 'Although someone once said... that words are loaded pistols.'

There was a brief pause.

Jean glanced at the dwarf sun rising across the desert sand.

'And who said that?' he asked.

'Somebody you ought to know,' remarked the smiling Titan. 'A man called Jean Paul Sartre.'

Jean scowled and passed a quick glance at the creatures inside the freight truck. Anything to distract him from the blunders he kept committing. But inside, even the Latin Llama was giving him a reproachful look.

Quid, amanti? Quid..

Yeah, why did he do that?

 

 

 

 

 

Eren kicked the door behind him shut. The apartment of 1263 stood dark and empty. Funny how that was not the way he remembered leaving it.

'Houston to Titan! I'm BACK...?' he said, raising his arms theatrically. His voice dipped, disappointed at the reception. There was no audience to receive him. 'Bummer, no one home?'

He heard a bark and turned to the kitchen. Krobe beheld him from the counter of the kitchen. The rottweiler proxy tilted its head to one side and regarded him with its beady red eyes.

_It's you... huh?_

Eren Jaeger broke into a wide grin.

'Yeah, it's me. You got a problem, mutt?'

_Came back from your planet of sleaze, huh?_

There was a twitch in its expression, and Eren caught the expectant look on its face. It stood up on all fours and gave an elegant wag of its metallic tail, barking again.

_So... you brought me any nugget, earthling?_

Eren sighed, as he reached into the pocket of his parka and took out the iron bolt he'd carried from his world. 'Yeah, yeah. Demanding, aren't you—'

He had hardly taken two steps towards the kitchen when he felt a force tackle him from behind. He'd never even heard the footsteps. Never seen the shadows move. Stealthy like a panther, that man was. They landed on the carpet with a faint thud, and Eren found himself being pinned down. The older pressed a knee into his stomach, holding him in place while tensile hands went to work, restraining Eren's arms above his head.

Eren growled at his assailant.  

'Hey! What is this?'

Levi peered down at him, grey eyes narrowed into slits.

'How many times have I told you not to enter the house without getting quarantined?'

Eren pouted. 'Because it's _demeaning_. I don't carry any germs,' he said, trying to wriggle free and cast an exasperated glance at the older man. 'And what the hell is this!' Eren grumbled. 'Is this any way to be treating your husband? Even Krobe looked a little enthusiastic to see me.'

Levi gave a 'tch' in annoyance.

'And why should I be happy to see you, moron? When all you do is break my rules.'

There was a long, consuming silence that shuffled in to replace the tension. They stared at one another, having breached each other's comfort zone. Eren caught the sliver of a smile threatening to break from the man’s careful reservoir of emotions, and Eren broke the ice with a chuckle.

'Alright, alright. I come in peace, please let me go.'

'Give me one good reason why I should.'

'Uh, I come bearing... gifts from my world?'

Levi gave his duffel bag a noncommittal glance.

'Another camera?' said Levi. ‘More junk?’

The mention of the camera made Eren wince hard.

'Yeah, as if! After you chucked mine out the window last time, you think I'd risk bringing another? That was my two-month savings, you know! TWO MONTHS working at a family diner! Do you have any idea how much money goes into college? How expensive education is! I buy my clothes at a thriftstore, and you go chucking my polaroid camera out the window! It was an antique!'

'Don't know, don't care,' the grey eyed Corporal simply said.

'Fine, I'm not gonna put down the toilet seat either. Touché.'

'Is that a threat? Are you picking a fight with me, trooper?'

There was a pause and the two men glared at each other, daring the other to give in.

Levi freed the younger's arms and regarded Eren with a glimmer in his grey eyes. His hand reached down to skim fingertips along Eren’s jawline, tracing the outline of his face. The guardian leaned in, brushing his nose into Eren’s hair and turning the boy’s skin into gooseflesh.  

The voice dropped low.

'So, what did you bring me?'

'Um...Oreos?' Eren suggested, closing his eyes and relishing in the way his nerves tingled.

'We all know you didn't bring that for me. Try again, rookie.'

Eren grinned, acutely listening.

'A bag of tortilla chips?'

'Not fond of starch either.'

There was a long silence that enveloped them, the mischief evident in the older man’s voice.

'Uh, me?' Eren asked with a nervous enough laugh.

He had anticipated being brushed off. He had expected an insult along the lines of 'dumbass', 'you think too highly of yourself, sunshine' and the like. But Levi leaned in close, sniffed him as if... as if he were considering the offer.

'Heh,' the quasi Napolean said. 'It's not much, but I accept.'

'Huh?' Eren asked with a start.

And without any warning, Levi grabbed the younger's arms and hip and slid Eren over his shoulder.

'Hold on! Wait, what do you think you're doing?'

The raven-haired man craned his neck to give him a smirk. 'Taking what belongs to me.'

Eren looked at Levi incredulously. 'You sure you can even carry me, Corporal?' he challenged. 'I am not the same fifteen-year-old brat you rescued a long time ago!'

'You will always be a brat,' said Levi, despite visibly heaving under the weight of the college student. Though Levi tried to deny it, he had to admit that Eren was sturdier now and no longer the pubescent boy he'd been asked to look after. 'And unfortunately, I will always have to rescue your ass,' the man admitted, carrying him towards the bedroom.

'Whoa, whoa! Watch the door frame! Watch the frame—'

Eren ducked his head, nearly missing being clobbered on the back of his skull.

Levi shut the door behind them, locking Krobe out just in time. They heard the droid give a low whine of melancholy. Krobe scratched at the closed door while Levi set the younger man back on his feet.

'So,' Eren trailed, blue green eyes never leaving the man. 'Who's topping?' he asked, voice thick with lust as he fumbled with his belt.

There was a pause.

Levi gave him a guarded look, before letting slip a smile.

'We’ll toss a coin.'

 

 

He was overcome with grief. He'd loved once upon a time, he remembered. Loved with all his heart. Now he felt crippling emptiness in its place. His chest turning tight, his chin bunched involuntarily. A pain fire-crackered its way through every sinew and nerve in his body.

'Eren! WAIT UP!'

The brunet didn't stop.

'EREN!' Armin hollered as he broke into a sprint, making one last ditch effort. The blond tackled him like the scrum in a rugby match. Armin didn't succeed in knocking him over horizontal— Armin didn’t have the strength to pull a stunt like that— but the blond managed to bring Eren down to his knees. Which was good enough, considering how volatile and distraught Eren looked. Armin wrapped his short arms around Eren’s middle and pressed his face into his best friend's back. They remained in the huddle for a long, awkward moment. Eren with his head hidden in the folds of his hooded cloak, refusing to be drawn out. And Armin with his arms wrapped tight around his best friend, trying to be a pillar of strength.

'Armin,' Eren urged. ‘Please let me go. Please.’

'Not until you calm down.'

'I’m calm.'

'Like heck you are. You're angry. You are frustrated. I get it, buster. You feel like punching someone, don't you?'

Armin felt a shudder wrack through the body he was holding. The shoulders trembled, but Eren was still holding it all in. He heard Eren take a deep breath in, but the air never came out, dying somewhere inside. The blond boy rolled his eyes, tightening his grip around his best friend.

'God, you haven't changed at all. It's like the time with the dentist. You couldn't even tell your mom that your mouth was hurting like hell. You keep all that pain to yourself. After all these years, you're still carrying your burdens by yourself. That's not healthy, Eren. It will eat you inside out. You get me?'

Eren grimaced, trying to restrain those emotions.

'He... He taught me to rein in my anger.'

Armin turned exasperated.

'No offence, Eren. But you're gonna take a dead man's advice over mine?'

It was a poor choice of wording, Armin realised on hindsight.

The body in his arms thrashed.

'Dammit, Armin. He is NOT dead!' Eren choked out. 'He can't be.'

Armin nodded fitfully. 'See? This is exactly what I meant! You've exalted the man to a God. He's just like the rest of us. People make mistakes, forgive them,' Armin said. 'Forgive him, Eren.'

There was a tense silence left in the wake of those words.

Armin saw the brown-haired keeper raise a hand to his face.

'He never said he was a hero, Armin. Much less a God. I am the one who—'

'Then, forgive yourself first.'

Armin caught his best friend’s shoulder and forced Eren to turn around and face him. Kneeling in the desert sand, the ground hard below them, he gave Eren’s shoulders a vigorous shake, steel topaz eyes looking deep into the vacillating green ones.

'Eren, you remember what happened in '02?'

There was a pause.

'Of course, I remember.'

'Yeah, that was the year the accident happened, and my parents never came home,' Armin said, pulling a face in distaste at the memory.

It was strange how Armin was narrating the worst event of his childhood... as if it were a slice of life movie he'd watched over the weekend.

'It was a tough time. But it wasn’t the end of my life. Which is why grandpa moved in with me. At first, I figured that all the old geezer wanted was to move out of his shelter home using me as a scapegoat. But know what? While I was made to stand between the funeral caskets, my gaggle of aunts told me to be dignified and not cry. Because boys shouldn't cry, they said. Real men don't cry tears, they told me. Guess who slammed the cab door and waltzed in with a cane? Yeah, Gramps did! He came up to the coffins, gave one shrivelling look at my dead folks. And then, he stormed over to me. And know what he did? He slapped me,’ Armin tapped his left cheek and laughed. ‘The old fossil told me I was angry, and I had the right to be. And there was no reason to feel ashamed of being angry at dead people. There's no shame in crying either. Gramps told me there was only one way to deal with the situation.'

Eren chewed the side of his cheek.

'What was that?' the brunet asked.

Armin smiled.

'When you're angry, you count to three.'

Eren scoffed, rolling his eyes.

'I know that already,' he confessed.

Armin wasn’t done.

'And when you're _really_ angry, you swear, curse and kick up a storm,' Armin finished.

Eren stared at Armin, wondering if this was the same kid who used to get bullied in middle school. He forced a laugh, realising who his childhood friend took after. 'Your gramps is one wise guy.'

Armin stuck his tongue out but nodded softly. The saint gave Eren’s shoulder a squeeze and broke into a reluctant smile. 'Yeah, that's what I thought. Until I pulled a book out of the library and found that Mark Twain had said it first. Grandpa still thinks the man plagiarised it from him, despite Mark Twain being dead for a hundred years. Go figure.'

Eren remained kneeling and shifted, putting his weight to the heels of his sneakers.

'What do you want me to do? I am at my wit's end, Armin. I don't know where to go from here.'

'Well, for starters, scream.'

Eren looked at him quizzically.

'What?'

Armin motioned to the sand dunes around them.

'Look around, Eren. There is no one around here for miles. This is the best place. Let it all out. Or your anger is going to eat you from the inside.'

Eren considered the advice in the quiet of the desert. He paused to glance at the ring on his right hand and felt the knot of emotions unravelling in his chest. Making up his mind, he got up and slunk away, nodding to himself. He took off his cloak next and tossed it to the ground. Dressed in his black Guns n Roses tee and jeans, relics of his world, Eren turned to brave the world of Titan without a disguise. No disguises, no pretensions. Thus exposed, he felt strangely liberated. Eren pressed a knee forward, hands to the ground, stretched his other thigh and took up the runner's stance.

Armin watched him in unease as the blond picked up Eren’s discarded cloak from the ground.

'Eren. What are you doing?'

'Blowing steam,' was all that the brunet said in reply.

Eren steadied his shoulders and looked ahead, staring at some indecipherable point in the distance.

He counted down from three… and then without warning, took off.

And Armin had never seen anything like it before. He had seen his best friend spar in the boxing ring, seen him play baseball and even do mock crunches in the gym. But it was nothing compared to watching Eren run the mile. Armin was amazed by the long, lithe strides of the young peacekeeper. Eren kicked up the desert sand in his stride, sneakers thundering down the invisible road like a hound with fire blazing on its heels. And there was that scream. A scream of anguish that broke through the silence of the desert, almost like the wail of an injured animal. Like a whale harpooned in its home, killed through its gut. Like a hawk shot down from the sky. Eren ran until his feet couldn't carry him. He ran until his lungs bled for air. When he finally stopped, he was just a small figure in the distance.

Armin watched the figure collapse on his knees.

But the screams did not cease. 

'I hope you're happy, you _asshole_!' Eren roared between the dunes of grey sand, words addressed to the ghost that still haunted him.

There was a plaintive cry from him that broke into sobs, the heel of a palm rubbing over his chest. Eren’s spine bowed. His words didn't die down.

'Because we've lost everything, Levi! EVERYTHING, you hear? Everything that meant _something_! It's all fallen apart!' he yelled.

'A—And I know it was paradise! My paradise and yours too! But guess what? You and I _both_ broke it!’

There was a pause, and a harsh whimper broke the air.

'But... it's okay! I CAN DEAL WITH IT! I can deal with all the shit you want to throw my way. I can deal with it. As long as you're alive. Please, just be alive!'

Armin watched Eren bury his face in his hands, the fugues of sorrow and memories clinging to him.

‘Cos’ I miss you. I miss you so goddam much.’

And then, Armin saw his friend break fully into those long held back tears.

 

 

 

 

When his tear sacs and throat had run dry, Eren felt a return of the old catharsis. It freed him, and he realised that Armin's grandfather had been right. It _did_ help. It did free him from the guilt and the anger. Face red and puffy, he forced himself to his feet and turned around. As always, Armin was waiting for him in the wings.

The blond waved cheerily.

'You done?' his best friend shouted.

Eren nodded with a half-smile, which the boy couldn't probably see from this far.

'You think he heard me?' Eren hollered at him.

Armin laughed.

'I bet the whole universe heard you! Loud and clear!' the blond yelled back. 

Armin waved again and pointed to a truck approaching in the distance.

'Hey. Our ride's here. Hurry up, you slacker!'

Eren nodded and began retracing the steps back to him. Eren's feet hurt from the sprint he'd just pulled. And he was sure, he'd have blisters if he peeled the sneakers and socks away. He looked up and saw the truck stopping before Armin.

But the blond stood frozen in his steps and showed no intent of moving towards it.

Eren realised why.

Three men emerged out of the freight truck. And Eren realised belatedly that this vehicle did not have the familiar logo of 'Burgess Venturas' branded on its length. One of the men pointed a gun at Armin's forehead, and the blond boy put up his hands in the air. Another caught the collar of the blond's cagoule jacket and shoved him into the truck despite the resistance from Armin.

'No,' croaked Eren breathlessly, colour draining from his face. 'NOT HIM!'

The men turned and noticed him. They jeered at the PeaceCorp.

He realised what they were.

Bounty hunters.

 

 

 

 

 _The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,_  
_And arbitrary blackness gallops in,_  
_I fancied you'd return the way you said,_  
_But I grow old and I forget your name._  
_I think I made you up inside my head._  
_I should have loved a thunderbird instead._

Mad Girl Love Song, Sylvia Plath

 

 

* * *

 


	50. Virgin Sacrifice

 

 

Chapter-50- Virgin Sacrifice

~.~

_And when Night Darkens the Streets,_

_then wander forth the Sons_

_Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine_

_Witness the Streets of Sodom._

Paradise Lost, John Milton

 

 

Having nabbed his best friend, the bounty hunters disappeared behind the freightliner's doors, bolting it shut. There was the chasm of silence for an infinitesimally short fragment of time before the engine revved to life. The vehicle swerved sharp to the left and began to reverse gear, its wheels screeching in the silence of the desert. Its tires skidded— the sound voluminous over his thundering heart— raising a thick wall of dust. _No_ , Eren thought in panic, urging his legs to move. _No_ , no, not Armin, he muttered under his breath as he took off after the truck, chasing it. It occurred to Eren how he was running all the time. Running from the State. Running across worlds. And inevitably, always running towards trouble. In moments like this, he really missed his gear. The peacekeeper’s instruments were stowed away with the rest of his belongings at the back of Nina Burgess's truck. His gear would have been useless here anyway. There was nothing to leverage for height in this land of nothings, neither skyscrapers nor any big ass trees. All to be found were dunes of grey: sandstone, pebbles and rocks with crystallized water.

Eren came to a hard stop, changing his mind. This won’t work, he deemed. There was not enough time. The brunet looked around haphazardly, a second wave of panic coursing through his veins. He knew what to do. _If you can't go to the mountain— then hell, you’ll have to bring the mountain to you._ He ducked to pick up some loose pebbles and before the truck could change gears and speed up, he began chucking the pebbles at the backside of the freightliner. One, two, a couple more… tossing them hard at that damned door, hoping to get their attention.

His shots hit the vehicle's backside, bouncing off the doors with a loud clunk. His efforts didn’t go futile. The vehicle pulled to an angry stop.

Eren stopped hurling his rocks; his hands dropped limp to his sides and he waited. He watched as the double doors opened a second time, and a man armed with a rifle stepped out, looking so very cross with him.

Eren smiled despite himself.

Oh yeah, he was trouble alright.

But at least, he had their attention now.

 

 

 

 

'Amicis tui sunt abisse!' the woman said under her breath.

'Quid?'

'ABISSE!'

Jean Kirstein looked between the two Titans. The Llama stretched its furry neck and caught on to the collar of Jean's olive-green jacket. He’d discarded the cloak in favour of his jacket. The Llama was now chewing mellifluously into the fabric, nuzzling his neck like a pouting lover, and Jean tried distractedly at swatting away its snout. _Not now_ , he told the mountain animal. They were on the move again and bizarrely, they hadn't found Armin and Eren yet. The ashbrown tried to make something out of the Titans' conversation, tried to understand what the hell they were arguing about. Marco's aunt sounded frantic, and there was a nervous edge to her voice, which made Jean even more anxious. 

He tugged at Marco’s sleeve, demanding a spot translation.

'What's she saying?' he asked. 'What the hell's wrong?'

The taller man looked perturbed as he ran a hand over his freckled face. He took a deep breath in, avoiding Jean’s eye.

'Nothing to worry about. It’s okay, Jean,' Marco said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘Everything should be fine.’

Nina Burgess didn't seem to share his spirit of positivity. She looked visibly rattled, changing gears again and broke into a fresh round of curses. The red-head’s attention was fixed on the parallel tracks on the sand. 'Imbecil,' she muttered under her breath.

'Nothing to worry about?' Jean asked in disbelief, turning to the freckled man. He knew Marco wasn’t telling him something. ‘Hey man, come clean.’

Marco realised that there was no point in keeping the truth from Jean. His expression turned grave as he caught Jean’s elbow and pulled him aside. 'Alright… we do have a problem. A big problem. Eren and Armin— something’s happened. We can’t find them. It’s— It’s like they’ve disappeared.’

Jean stared at him.

'What do you mean _disappeared_?’ he asked, raising his voice and inadvertently disturbing the animals in the trucker. The horses neighed nervously. ‘Stop fooling around, Bott. Those guys were here a moment ago. How far could they have gotten on foot? Are we even going in the right direction? I bet they’re right around the corner or somethin’—'

Marco placed a hesitant hand on Jean's shoulder, urging him to stay calm.

'There’s one other thing. My aunt says there are tracks of a ten-wheeler. A heavy vehicle. Someone got to them before us. We don't know who they are or what they want, but the tracks seem to be heading towards Maria.'

'What are you implying?' Jean hissed.

The freckled man sighed.

'Look, Jean, I think Eren and Armin,’ Marco hesitated, his voice faltering. ‘—there’s a possibility that they got kidnapped.'

Jean stared at him, eyes wide as saucers. The truck took a nasty turn around a cluster of boulders, unsettling their balance. Both he and Marco grabbed a crate to steady their footing.

In the driver’s seat, they heard Nina let out an expletive.

'Fuck,' Nina cursed in English this time.

Jean couldn't have said it any better.

 

 

The bounty hunters handcuffed him; they led Eren to the end of the containment unit, at the very far back of the freightliner, one man nudging his back with the nozzle of a gun. _Keep moving,_ came the wordless command, an order meant to be complied with. ‘And no funny business, aye? _’_ a ragged voice reminded him. There were three of them, all armed and heavily cloaked with scarves covering their mouths and heads. They smelled like cheap booze and piss. Eren was shoved into a dusty corner where someone else sat with his elbows wrapped around his knees, trembling in his newfound terror. The boy looked tinier than ever. His hands had been tied together with a cord. Even in the throes of semi darkness, Eren recognized the saint.

Paler than a sheet of ice, Armin looked up aghast and threw Eren a dirty look. If Eren had been hoping that his best bud would be relieved to see him, he was dead wrong.

'What?' Eren whispered.

Armin groaned.

'Great going, _Einstein_. Now we are _both_ stuck here.'

'What the hell did you want me to do? Run away?'

Armin bit into his lower lip and rolled his eyes, throwing their captors furtive glances. ‘Duh,’ he hissed back. ‘Did it ever occur to you to get help? Some best friend you are. Between you and Jean, I don't know who the bigger idiot is.'

Eren's shoulders slumped, and he sat down beside Armin. He exhaled deeply, sinking against the walls of the trucker.

'It would have been too late, Armin,’ he said in a small voice. ‘I had to try and rescue you.'

Armin lifted his restraints and pointed Eren’s attention to them. 'Oh yeah, about the whole rescue thing? In case you haven’t noticed, it’s _not_ really working out right now,' the blond deadpanned, nodding towards Eren's own handcuffs.

Eren ignored the jibe and turned to the three bounty hunters. Their kidnappers sat in a huddle, whispering among themselves. They looked nervous and jumpy, keeping an eye out for any vehicle that might be following them. Eren strained his ears to hear their conversation. Pieces of it came to him, their voices low and gruff.

'Auction is this evening,’ one man said. 'What luck finding the fellow before anyone else!'

'Yes, good thing Belial’s underlings didn’t find ‘im first!' said another, his voice silken and soft.

The third didn’t agree with the rest. He opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it again. He tried a second time, giving Eren and Armin a wary look.

'I d-don't know,’ he stuttered. ‘I don't have a good feeling about this,’ he said before turning to his peers. ‘This is Vigilante's territory, you understand? What if he decides to show up tonight? You reckon he’ll let us go scot-free? After what went down at the Pandemonium, we’re just pushing our luck! You'll see.'

His warnings went unheard. 

'Stop being a wuss. How does it even matter? We just hand over the bounty and wash our hands clean off the runts. Easy money is what it is.'

Eren sucked in his lower lip and whistled at them. He didn't quite grasp their conversation, but he had a thing or two to say. 

'Hey UGLIES!' he called out to them, ignoring the warning look from Armin.

Eren was granted their undivided attention. The men looked towards him, their hands immediately reaching for the firearm in their holsters.

'Look,' Eren said, vainly trying to negotiate. 'Please don’t hand us over to the State. We are not criminals, you understand? We've been framed. I don't know what price they've put on our heads—'

The men sniggered, amused by his attempt at persuasion.

Their laughter subsided.

'Oh, we're not bounty hunters for the State, kid. We are plenty wanted ourselves. Aye, gentlemen?'

There was a murmur of agreement.

The peacekeeper felt a chill wash over him as the meaning of those words set in.

However, his best friend was slow on the uptake. Armin was a genius at academics and videogames, but when it came to the real world, he was naïve. Painfully naïve.  

'If you're not working for your government, wh—what do you want from us?' Armin demanded, his voice all but a stutter.

The men broke into guffaws, and one of them stood up, making his way across to the two young men from Earth. The bounty hunter removed his scarf to reveal unkempt grey hair and a thick stubble under his chin. Looking to be somewhere in his mid-forties, the man let his eyes roam between Eren and Armin. He chose his prime picking. He sauntered over to the blond, crouching by Armin's side and grabbed hold of the boy's jacket. Eren watched his friend go painfully quiet, scrabbling to put some space between himself and the man. His pursuer grunted and pinning Armin’s leg to the ground, he held the blond captive. Peeling away the collar of the petrified boy, the man traced a finger along the pale skin on Armin’s neck in a caress. Armin tried to scramble back, but the older man kept a steady hold on him, relishing in the fear wrought in blue eyes. "You're a fine little thing," the man gloated, dragging his tongue over Armin’s cringing cheek until it could violate the shell of his ear. 'There are bidders who'll pay a far better price for you, Earthborn, than the State ever could. People, who are fascinated by flesh,' the man said, kneading Armin's thigh lasciviously, '— yes, flesh of the other world.'

Armin made a sound— a sound somewhere between a mewl and a cry— and recoiled in disgust. 'But I'm… a g-guy,' he stammered.

The man smirked and leaned in for another lick against Armin's ear. There was the reek of alcohol in his breath, and the lust apparent in his bloodshot eyes. Armin cringed visibly.

'True, you'd have fetched an extraordinary price if you'd been a woman,’ their captor crooned, ‘—but you've got a pretty face and gender doesn't really matter to most folks in the subpar,' the man's hands travelled upwards from Armin's thigh, his voice suggestive. 'Especially for people like me.'

Armin squeezed his eyes shut, resisting the urge to vomit.

Eren decided he’d seen and heard enough. The peacekeeper growled and shot out his foot hard, kicking the man's shin.

'Hey,’ Eren snapped. ‘You leave him alone, you bastard. Don't touch him with your filthy hands.'

The thug gave Eren an annoyed look.

'And who are you? Don't remember seeing your stupid face on the bulletin.'

'Oh, you want an introduction?' Eren taunted, holding up his manacles. 'Free me, asshole. And I'll gladly introduce you to my fist.'

The other men seemed to have heard his taunts, and they laughed in ridicule.

'What do ya know? Kid's feisty. You gonna let that runt talk you down, Perenti?'

The man called Perenti ignored their jeers.

'You're an Earthborn too?' the man asked Eren, looking over the brunet curiously.

Armin shook his head furiously at Eren, pleading to his best friend to stay quiet. _Eren, don't tell them anything, please,_ the boy mouthed. But Eren ignored the advice. He scowled at their captor, eyes narrowed and blazing with equal amounts of hatred and fury.

'Yes, I am an Earthborn,' he announced thickly. 'And goddam proud to be one. Come closer, scumbag, and I'll show you just how much of an otherworldly flesh I am.'

The jeers from the others died down. A spell of stillness fell over the occupants of the truck.

Perenti looked unnerved by the young man, despite the rifle strapped to his own shoulder. What was with this kid and his big mouth? The blond had been easy to intimidate, but this punk looked like an untamed beast, a mongrel infested with rabies at best. A handsome face wasted on a hound which didn’t know any better than to snap at its masters. It needed lessons.

'You think you can take me down?' the Titan asked, feigning a superior smile. ‘Do you forget where you are, Earthborn? This is our land. You are the trespassers, and you’re badly outnumbered.’

Eren sneered, eyes narrowed dangerously.

'Not just you, dude. I'll take down your entire fleet. I've been trained by the very best, shitheads. Why don’t you try me?' he challenged, voice hoarse and level, fire blazing in those blue green eyes.

Perenti's head turned from the young man's fierce expression to Eren's hands, curled into fists within their restraints. Thank Mael for those restraints. Ignoring the taunts from his peers, the man backed off from Armin, deciding that there were some fights not worth getting into.

‘Let’s see if you can still talk after tonight, kid. We’ve got a nasty surprise planned for you, your friend, and that lovely _mouth_ of yours.’

 

 

 

Marco shook hands with his aunt and thanked her for all her assistance. The woman had kept her promise and brought them to Maria. Of course, they had lost two of their crew along the way. Jean collected their things from the inside of 'Burgess Venturas'. He made his way out, after bidding a churlish goodbye to the Latin Llama and the hammerhead shark, both looking none too pleased to see their best buddy leave. The horses neighed at him, and he raised a hand to wave back at them. Heaving under the weight of Eren and Armin's backpacks, Jean climbed out and watched the freight truck pull from the curb before departing for Utgard.

They were on their own now. In this land of the outlaws. Where being a PeaceCorp mattered little.

Marco walked over to Jean and pointed to the white ten-wheeler that stood parked before a rundown building. He looked worried again.

'My aunt said that the tracks lead up to that lorry over there. Let’s hope we find them here.'

Jean frowned at the sight of the building.

'Marco,’ he called. ‘I am getting a bad feeling about this place. And trust me, my intuition is never wrong.'

The freckled man looked surprised. For it was the first time that Jean had called him by name.

Marco's reply was cut short by a loud cheer and the unmistaken sound of a hammer being struck against wood. There was the sound of men jeering, and wolf whistles pierced the air.

'What the hell is going on inside?' Jean asked in a low voice.

'Oh dear,' Marco groaned, before walking briskly towards the oval building. 'This is bad, Jean. I have heard of the rumours before but to think, they actually practice it—'

The ashbrown followed at his heels, not liking Marco’s tone in the least. 'Hey, what practice?'

But Marco wouldn't give him a straight answer.

'You'll find out. We need to get inside first. Hurry!'

 

 

 

The Earthborn-Titan duo were not the only ones who had heard the heckling laughter in the gallery outside, and the sound of the sledge hammer slamming against wood. Armin stood in the corridor leading up to large double doors; he looked petrified. The blond college student broke into cold sweat and struggled against his bonds for the sixth time in a row. He ought to have stayed back home, in the comfort of his dormitory room. He ought to have lived the normal life of a twenty-two-year-old. He was not prepared for this. Not prepared to be sold to barbarians who coveted him as if he were a rare find.

Eren bumped his shoulder.

'Armin, calm down,' the brunet whispered to him. 'Don't worry, I'll protect you.'

Armin's lower lip quivered; it would seem he didn't have great faith in Eren's abilities to protect anybody. 'And how do you plan to do that?' Armin blurted out, eyes flashing furiously to his best friend. 'My grandpa didn't raise me so I could become a sex slave to a bunch of aliens, OKAY?'

The blond looked to be on the verge of tears and whimpered, giving the corridor a long, forlorn look. 'Oh God, we're screwed.'

Eren didn't blame him and swallowed the knot in his own throat, struggling against his handcuffs.

How the hell was he going to fix this? Where the hell were Jean and Marco?

Armin was right. His best friend didn't deserve this. No one did.

'I won't let anything happen to you, Armin. I swear.'

The doors leading to the outdoors opened, and two of their kidnappers stalked down the steps.

Armin shrank back against the wall as they reached him. The men caught his shoulders and gave the boy a violent push towards the doors. _Your audience awaits you_ , one man said with a mad sneer on his lips. Armin paused to give Eren a horrified glance. _Help me,_ he mouthed in despair.

Eren blinked, trying to chalk up a rescue plan.

Come on, brain cells.

Think.

THINK!

As if in answer, he remembered the words of someone.

 

_You can't survive here if you can't even lie, trooper._

 

Eren bit into his lower lip, drawing blood. He didn’t want to acknowledge those hurtful words, but in this moment of dire uncertainty, he found himself humbled by those very same words.

'Hey,' he called to the men loudly. 'HEY!' he barked.

The men halted in their steps and turned to give him a weary glance. 'What? You’ve got somethin’ to say?'

The peacekeeper nodded. 'Take me instead,' Eren urged them.

The Titans stared at him before rumbling out a laugh.

'What an honourable thing to do… but sorry. This fellow would fetch a far better price than you ever could. Besides, we have other plans for you, runt.'

'Oh yeah?' Eren contested, swallowing hard. His eyes shifted between Armin and the two captors. 'Look, we're both Earthborns. Armin may be prettier to look at, but he is wanted by the State. He is a drug peddler, an arsonist and… and a _slut_.'

Silence hung in the air.

‘Huh?’ the men asked, staring gingerly at him.

Eren nodded, letting out a nervous little laugh.

‘Yep. He’s a slut; he’s slept with almost everybody in college back in my world. Don’t be fooled by his looks. He may be pretty, but that boy’s a total skank.’

The kidnappers quirked an eyebrow up at him, looking from Armin to Eren.

'What is your point, nitwit?'

Caught between the two, Armin gave his best friend a look of bewilderment and confusion. _What the heck, Eren? Is this the time for my character assassination?_

Eren didn’t dare meet his friend’s gaze or let his rouse fail.

'My point is… take me instead. I will fetch a far better price for you, trust me.'

The men gave him the once over, turning peeved at his offer.

'Ha! You?’ they croaked. ‘And what's so special about you, runt?'

Right. What was so special about him? An insignificant little bugger like Eren Jaeger?

There was that voice in his head again.

_You can't survive here if you can't even lie._

_Lie._

Eren pressed his eyes shut for a second before opening them again. He made his resolve firmly and nodded.

Eren met their faces with dead-on seriousness.

'Well, I’m a… virgin.'

 

* * *

 

 


	51. Masked Vigilante

 

 

 

Chapter-51- Masked Vigilante

~.~

 

 

 

In a secluded room of Stanley Memorial's psychiatric ward, a woman sat on her bed between rumpled sheets. There was a yarn of blue next to her bare feet, Peruvian wool, the ends of its thread attached to her knitting needles. Her hands worked at a feverish pace: looping, unlooping, curling and uncurling until she heard a knock on her door. The woman in her late forties felt the old familiar strain in her wrists, a nerve twitching in protest at the abuse. But sometimes, it was this small, unrelenting pain that helped her forget. That the world was moving and not she.

'Yes, come in, please!' she answered.

The door arched open, and Nurse Robbins stuck her head into the gap.

'Good afternoon, Mrs Jaeger,’ the nurse greeted her cheerily. ‘Colour me surprised, but you have a visitor,' the woman in the blue scrubs announced, a genuine smile leaking out on her face.

'Oh? Who is it…? Armin? Hannes?' Carla asked, putting away her knitting hamper.

Nurse Robbins swung the door back and let the visitor walk in. Carla had expected to be greeted by Eren's best friend or her old friend Hannes. She even harboured a hope that it was Eren behind that door. Instead, a short blonde girl stood next to the nurse, dressed in a purple sweatshirt and black skinny jeans. Carla wasn't sure what startled her more. The girl or the flowers she held. For in her arms, Annie Leonhart carried a large bouquet of pink roses.

'Hello,' Annie greeted the woman with a curt wave of her hand. 'I was… kinda in the neighbourhood. Thought I'd drop by with these and say hi,' she explained, still looking out of sorts with the world, the hospital and even the roses in her hand. Annie Leonhart was a peculiar girl, so thought Carla.

She nodded.

There was a ladylike grace in Carla's smile. Her face brightened especially at the sight of the roses. 'Why, thank you. They're wonderful,' the older woman said, accepting the bouquet from Annie graciously. They heard the door close behind them, Nurse Robbins having left them to return to her hospital duties.

'Please have a seat,' Carla told the girl, nodding towards a chair.

Annie didn’t need a second invitation. She pulled the chair to Carla’s bedside and folded herself into it. She watched as the older woman sniffed the roses, arranging the stalks with care.

'Ann,' the brown-haired woman noted.

The blonde girl looked at her in surprise.

'Hm? Sorry?'

Carla Jaeger smiled. 'The name of this genus is Ann. Some even call it Ann's daughter. You didn't know?'

Annie shrugged and making a small sound of disapproval, she studied the room instead. Her blue gaze moved from the yarn of wool to the knitting hamper. She gave a small snort at the name. 'Ann’s Daughter, huh? No offense, Mrs Jaeger... I'm sure my folks didn't name me after a bunch of flowers. They weren’t the artsy types. My father ran a sweaty gym downtown; my birth mother worked odd jobs until she decided enough was enough and that it was time to make quick money. She packed up and left for casino city when I was four. I had a step mom though; the tramp loathed me. So yeah… Not exactly the tree hugging family you have in mind. '

Carla looked disconcertedly at the girl.

'Ah, I… see,' she observed. 'But Annie is still a pretty name,' Carla said, suppressing a sigh and silently wondering if there was anything that was not a sore subject with the girl. Small talk was not her forte. Was being emo the trend these days, Carla rued. 'So, what brings you here, Annie? I'm sure young people have better things to do on… oh, what day is it, I forget?' Carla said suddenly, turning to the calendar.

'Saturday, the sixteenth,' Annie supplied. She smiled, though her smile was oddly vacant.

'Right, Saturday. Weekend. Kids your age must have better stuff to do than be visiting an asylum.'

Annie looked amused by the remark.

'Trust me, Mrs Jaeger,' she said with a simpering smile. 'I am here because I want to be. Besides, I thought we could resume our conversation from last time.'

Here, Carla began to look unnerved.

'About... Eren?'

Annie gave a shake of her head.

'Not quite, ma'am. This time…’ Annie measured out her pause. ‘This time I'd like to know more about your husband.'

There was a silence that followed those words, and the silence was wrought with discomfort and strained feelings. The mention of Grisha Jaeger visibly unsettled the woman on the bed, and Carla gave Annie a shaky smile. 'Oh, I think we should talk about more cheerful stuff than the past. It's been fourteen years. That's a long time. I don't know where Grisha is or what he is up to…' she said, reaching for the vase on her table to tuck the bouquet in.

Annie watched the woman over the tip of her steepled fingers. Her own hands were calloused from years of training. So were Carla's. There were similarities and yet so many subtle differences between them. She observed the older woman quietly. Carla Jaeger poured a jug of water into the stem of the glass vase, just enough to sustain and give life to the roses that Annie had brought for her.

Carla turned to Annie.

The blonde had a strange look of determination on her face. And the girl was observing the woman, gauging her in scrutiny that was unbecoming of someone so young.

'W-What is it?' Carla asked.

'My apologies, Mrs Jaeger, but I can read people. You're awfully protective of your family, aren't you?' Annie said, and she paused here with a furrow in her brows. 'He takes that from you, y'know. Eren... And the fact that you're both terrible at lying, ma’am. I can tell you're not giving me the whole truth. You've met him recently, haven't you?’

‘Met who?’

‘Grisha Jaeger.’

Carla who'd tried to keep herself busy with the flowers, turned to Annie sharply. She went pale.

In that moment of nervousness, she knocked it over. The vase slipped past her fingers and crashed to the floor.

The sound of glass cracking resonated through the silence of the room.

Carla looked down and caught her own reflection in the splinters of glass, her eyes reflected wide and fearful.

'S-Such a bad omen,' she stammered. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to drop it—'

Carla heard a chuckle and looked up at Annie. The girl was smiling that odd, little smile of hers. The girl left her seat and fetched a newspaper from the bedside table. She knelt on the floor and began to pick up the broken pieces conscientiously, taking care so as not to scrape her own fingers over their edges. 'It’s alright. _Scherben bringen Glück_ , my ancestral folks would say,' Annie murmured into the ill silence.

At the older woman's quizzical look, Annie nodded at her, her expression grave and complacent.

'It means broken glass will bring you luck.'

Carla turned to the vase lying broken on the floor. She didn't believe in luck and grew worried about that son of hers.

_Eren, are you alright?_

 

 

 

 

 

His lie sparked a debate between the bounty-hunters.

'Virgin?' they ruminated.

‘Does he look it?’

'If it's true, we will make heaps tonight.'

'Ha, but how do we _confirm_?'

'Guh. We'll take his word for it. If the bidders are convinced, who are we to complain? Mebbe even cut a few years from his age, huh? That’d be a rock-solid prize to bargain for.'

The two captors released Armin and stalked up to Eren, their eyes seizing him in newfound interest.  

'Any last wishes before you lose your cherry?' one man asked him.

'Yeah,' Eren admitted, ignoring their illicit smiles. He pointed at Armin. 'Can I just hug him one last time?' the peacekeeper asked. 'For old time's sake?'

The men looked on in amusement, clearly bowled over by his request. 'Aww, ain't that the cutest thing you've ever seen!' they mocked. 'Sure, go right ahead. Hug your little friend all you want. And when you're done, we will take you to where the big, bad wolves are, virgin.'

Their tone was sickening. But Armin didn't know if it was the perversion of money, lust or booze.

Without losing a beat, Eren walked over to Armin and caught his best friend’s hands with his handcuffed ones. Eren leaned towards the boy until his mouth was pressed against Armin’s ear.

'I’m sorry for dragging you into this, Armin. Whatever you do, don't panic,’ he whispered. ‘Jean and Marco will come for you,' Eren hissed, trying to sound assuring even at a time like this. 'They will come and rescue you. You get me? I swear, we won’t let you down, Armin.'

'E-Eren…?' Armin struggled to grab his friend's hand, trying to hold him back. 'No, don't do this. Please don’t—'

His pleas went unheard. Armin felt something small and metallic being slipped between his fingers.

'Sshh. Get outta here,' said the green-eyed wonder, giving Armin a final fist bump. Before Armin could grab on to those warm, tanned fingers, a hand clamped down on Eren’s neck rudely, and Armin watched his bestie being yanked towards the looming doors.

'Eren!' Armin barked, his gaze terror-stricken. 'Please don't do this! You hear me?'

The brown-haired keeper turned around briefly to give Armin a small smile.

_It's okay. I'll be fine._

One of the bounty-hunters forced the boy's head to the front. Armin watched the strained back of the young man as he was led up the steps. He watched the doors open, the light and the madness from outside trickling in. And just like that, his best friend was whisked away into the circle of blinding light.

Armin was left alone with his feelings of despair and uselessness. He looked down at his palm and found the two objects Eren had bequeathed to him.

A key.

And a silver ring.

The idiot’s wedding ring.

Armin Arlert gave the doors a mournful look.

'Eren,' Armin groaned, shoulders trembling, disgusted at his own helplessness. 'You colossal dumbass. What’s wrong with your head?'

 

 

 

 

It wasn't his fault, Jean assured himself.

No, it wasn't his _goddam_ fault that his friends were in trouble.

It had been Marco's idea to split up. It had been Marco's idea to be prepared for the worst. It had also been Marco's idea to pull the cloak over him. Jean had been ultra-focused on finding his friends that he hadn't paid attention to the fact that his face was undisguised and begging to be spotted. Not until Marco caught Jean's arm, drew the ashbrown to a stop. He tucked Jean's head under the hood, tucking him to safety, the Titan’s voice gentle albeit reprimanding _. You must avoid being recognised, Jean_ … _You're wanted by the State too_ , Marco lectured him. _Please don't do anything rash_ , the taller man had advised before splitting up.

Jean Kirstein, PeaceCorp 104th squadron, Stonehess division, was suddenly hit by nostalgia. He was reminded of that crazy doting mom of his, and it puzzled him how a gentle, smiling Titan who never cussed, a bookworm who quoted books all the time... could remind Jean of his mother back home. Jean had never been a great fan of the Titans. But he admitted that Marco… yes, _this_ Marco Bott was tolerably better than most of them. Yeah. _Tolerably._

Jean followed the noise of the crowd. He walked through a dusty varnished corridor, which had questionable stains on its walls. Like barfed liquor from someone's stomach, the entrails of a dead animal or maybe it was just the choice of the mosaic tiles. The end of the passage fanned out to open to a large tent, made of canvas, lead and wood, decorated with stained glass and mirrors, the raised pavilion detailed in velvet and brocade. He remembered driving with his mother in her Cadillac once and she pointed out a large tent on the grass plains of Sylvan. _That's a traveling circus, Jean,_ Mrs. Kirstein had said. _You wanna go?_ Jean had rolled his eyes at her back then. _Seriously, mom. Circus? How old do you think I’m?_

She had called it a 'Spiegeltent'.

A place for performances and celebration.

But as Jean entered the crowd of spectators, he knew this place just felt wrong. Garish lava lamps hung from the rafters in a bizarre example of sixties kitsch. The stench of people, their faces, all of it unsettled Jean Kirstein. He was grossly outnumbered too. Cloaked and equipped with nothing but a Swiss army knife, he felt vulnerable as if he were walking in naked. There was something about this gathering of Titans. First was the obvious lack of the fairer sex… which was never a good sign. Nothing familial or homely about the place. Secondly, there was the stink of alcohol and the swearing in conversations. These men were inebriated to the bone and judging from their piss-poor clothes, most didn't seem to be affluent either. Not a great combination to find in one's opponents. Thirdly, there was the canvas tent that seemed to have been hastily constructed over the pavilion and the amphitheater. As if they didn't want to be seen by outside eyes. And lastly, was the hammering.

Jean pushed through the crowd, towards the sound of that hammer. He paved his way in to the centre. His hazel eyes skimmed the faces discreetly in search of the dorks he'd grown to consider as his closest friends. Where were they?

_Thump! Thump! THUD!_

'Patience, gentlemen. Paciencia! Avoir de la patience! Gedulal!'

Jean looked up and found a balding man on the podium, looking dapper in a mouldy suit. He was speaking into the mike, urging the boisterous crowd to be quiet.

'Yes, yes, it is time to bring out the main attraction for the night. And Gentlemen, behold! Prepare to be awed! For we save the best for the last! Feast your eyes upon this rare find!’ he stopped talking, allowing the silence to accumulate, letting their anticipation run wild. The auctioneer sniggered and ran down the stats. ‘Earthborn male! Eighteen years of age! And…’ he paused to smile wickedly at them all. ‘— a _virgin_ to boot!'

The doors opened; someone was dragged out by their shirt-front and shoved into plain view.

Jean looked up at the stage and found the auctioneer gesturing to a person. A boy so familiar Jean could have found him blindfolded. A young man with tousled brown hair who looked confusedly at the gallery around him.

Jean stared.

Eighteen-year-old virgin— what?

'Eren?' Jean breathed in shock.

 

 

 

 

Sgt. Keith Shadis like Sun Tzu was a dictionary of cardinal rules. Chief among them was this— In the battlefield, it is imperative to expect the unexpected. To be prepared for the worst. Your enemy could be a machine, a human, hell it could be your best buddy, even a wolf in a sheep's skin. Always be prepared, Shadis would say. And then, he'd proceed to get in the faces of trainees and scare the daylights out of them. Eren remembered Dita Ness and his lessons too. The man with the colorful bandanna once tapped the numbers on his projection screen. 'Gentlemen….' He'd catch the glare from Annie and bite his tongue '… and ladies. I'm sorry, Leonhart, Hannah and the rest… but that's exactly my point. The gender ratio is not in favour of women in this world. The State has done its best to tackle gender disparity at its core. But facts are facts, and we are seeing a reverse population growth. The situation is particularly grim in the subpars.'

'Subpars?' Eren asked aloud. 'Wait. What the hell's that?'

Thomas rolled his eyes, turning in his seat to flick Eren's forehead.

'Didn't we go over this last time, Jaeger? Are all your folks such loose cannons?'

Eren growled at his classmate.

'I'm sure your balls won't shrivel up if you care to repeat it a second time, Thomas.'

And before a war of words broke out in class, Marco Bott would place his hands on the shoulders of his peers and he'd pull them apart. Marco gave a sigh as he pacified the two. 'The subpars are the encroachments outside the bubble cities, Eren,' Marco explained, answering the boy's question. 'We have Maria outside Trost. Rumors say that the State banishes suboptimal people to the land outside.'

'Suboptimal?' Eren echoed, not liking the sound of it.

'Yes, State offenders, people with criminal history, people of certain ethnicity. Kinda how your world's Hitler went about eliminating Jews, homosexuals and non-Aryans. Of course, there are no concentration camps here… but pushing these people off to the inhospitable land outside is akin to genocide. At least, that's what the rebels argue.'

Sgt. Dita Ness gave a nervous laugh at Marco's explanation.

'Come on, Cadet. The State cares about its people. And we are soldiers of the Titan State. You should be careful about what you say, Marco,’ Dita gave Eren a placating smile. ‘Don't worry, Eren. Titans are not as bad as Marco makes them out to be.'

 

 

 

 

 

As Eren stood on the dais, finding himself being ogled by two hundred men clustered around the platform, he almost let out a skeptic laugh. He could see it in their eyes. The feral lust, the need to humiliate him and put him in his place. These were the forsaken people of the land, and they were venting out using their own means and ends. This was Maria. This was the Streets. The Underground. A place Levi had once belonged to. And yet, Eren couldn't imagine his husband being one of these perverts.

Titans are not so bad, Dita Ness had said.

_Yeah, right._

The stage stretched long in diameter with the ringside seats close enough for Eren to feel the heat and reek of alcohol breaths. Booth seats surrounded the décor of stained glass and mirrored windows, the booths giving some audiences privacy of their own. He hated to think what people hidden away inside those booths were doing, watching him handcuffed and put on display. Were they enjoying the party? Deriving a sadistic joy at his humiliation? When Eren turned to the faces around him, he found lewd expressions on many of the spectators, one man smacked his lips at him. Another blew a raspberry. A third, _eugh_ , made a vulgar euphemism with his barcoded hand. Another licked his lips and grabbed his own crotch. But Eren kept his face stern and impassive, as he passed a glance over the sea of faces until he caught sight… of a familiar one.

Not the one he'd have expected to meet between these felons and perverts.

Jean was staring up at him from the inner ring.

Eren gave him a baffled look, taking a moment to register his friend's presence.

_What're you doing here, horseface?_

Jean returned an incredulous stare.

 _Me? What the hell are **you** doing up there?_ Jean mouthed back at him, gesticulating wildly between them.

Despite his nauseating situation, Eren let slip a grateful smile. Trust Jean to find him. Trust horseface to find him in a pinch. For some reason, seeing that one familiar face among the two hundred depraved monsters was enough to reassure Eren. If Jean Kirstein was here… it was going to be fine.

Right?

Eren balled his fingers into a fist and let his eyes roam, searching for a post or pillar to stare at. _Don't look at these creeps in the eye, Eren. Sure, you want to pound your fist in their faces but… no, Armin is back there. Keep calm for his sake. Keep calm until you figure out how to get out of this mess. Don't get angry. Just keep_ —

Eren froze, his blue green eyes having spotted the anomaly in the crowd. In the booths at the far back of the canvas tent, someone waited. Sitting perched on top of an occupied table of three, was a man. Not just any ordinary man. To be honest, this one had to be a freak. Because he wore a trench coat and a white mask with splotches of dark ink… ink spots that swirled in animation. Eren knew that mask. It was the mask of a comic hero, Eren’s own childhood superhero.

Rorschach.

And try as he might, Eren couldn’t peel his eyes away from it. Nor could he figure out why anyone would choose to wear Rorschach’s mask.

Was it a sick joke?

How did they even get hold of that costume? How… and most importantly, _why?_

Eren struggled to make sense of it.

And as he stood confused, he realized that the masked man was staring back at him too. Despite the auctioneer calling for order, despite all the chaos in the gallery, the obscenities being hurled at him, the man in the trench coat and second face had his invisible eyes set upon Eren Jaeger, like he was the only one in the room.

Eren watched the man raise a gloved finger to his mask, to where the lips were supposed to be.

 _Sshh_ , being the wordless command.

He wasn't afforded the chance to ask why. Because there was Perenti behind him, and a carnal chant in the air.

And Eren was forced to steer his gaze back to the crowd.

'KNEEL! KNEEL! MAKE HIM KNEEL!' the Titans screamed.

Eren took two steps back and shook his head firmly, spitting at them.

'Go to hell,' he barked at his audience.

'Did he just talk back to us?' someone yelled, sounding revolted.

Another tossed a crumpled tin can on to the podium in aggravation. It missed Eren by a few inches, thankfully. Eren watched the can bounce off the floor of the raised platform.

The auctioneer standing at the podium banged his gavel against it.

'Now, lookie here, no damaging the goods, you hear? He may be a talker but that ain't a bad thing in bed. Think about—'

The auctioneer was cut off as the chants grew louder.

'KNEEL! MAKE THE EARTHBORN SCUM BOW TO US FIRST!'

Eren looked at all of them, the fierceness in his gaze not subsiding.

'The hell I am gonna kneel to you fuc—'

Perenti came up behind him. There was a kick against the back of his legs, and it sent Eren crashing down. The brunet sputtered, wincing from the pain that travelled through his bones as his knees met the hard ground. Eren could hear the jeers, the laughter and also the loud curse from Jean's lips.

'Alrigh', alrigh', let us _formally_ begin the auction,' the bald emcee announced, chuckling at his inside joke. He addressed the unruly crowd before him. 'Let me remind you buyers that this is _arcana tabulata catastae_. If the slave has defects, the dealer will make good the buyer's loss. The starting bids now please!' the auctioneer said, hammering on his deck again.

Eren squeezed his eyes shut.

The bids rained down like a hailstorm of pellets. Each word, each voice reminding him that no matter what he did, who he worked for, he was always going to be an alien to these people. An outsider. An outsider on Earth. An outsider here on Titan as well. But right now, he felt so much _worse_. Like human chattel. He felt like a caged animal with people scrambling to own Eren and humiliate him.

'Eight hundred!' a stranger yelled, raising a finger in air.

'What is eight hundred, Cameron? That is peanuts. A thousand quid!' spent a deep voice.

'A thousand, two hundred for the lad! Those lovely eyes deserve it!'

Apparently, virginity sells, Eren thought in silence. He ground his teeth in fury and stared at the dusty floor of the pavilion. How long till Marco found Armin? How long would he have to suffer through this mockery?

'T-Two thousand!' a new voice joined the array, sounding hesitant and green.

Eren recognized it instantly. He snapped his eyes towards the ashbrown and sure enough, Jean had his hand raised, the bony arm trembling ever so slightly. The people around Jean Kirstein parted, giving him ample space and looking at Jean in nothing short of amazement and awe. _Whoa, rich man 'ere,_ was the unspoken sentiment among them. 

The brunet glared down at his partner, hardly impressed.

 _What the hell are you doing?_ Eren’s gaze demanded.

Jean shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

 _Trying to save you, idiot. What do you think?_ Jean mimed back at him tensely.

Eren growled at the taller boy.

 _Do you even have any Titan money to pay up with,_ he mouthed to Jean in return.

Their banter was interrupted for a hush fell over the crowd. Eren looked at the circle of spectators and found the reason behind the silence. The men in the gathering were all looking back. Eren turned to the far booths where a single hand stood raised against the stained-glass windows. A gloved hand.

It was that masked man.

The silence was foreboding as everyone waited. 

'Five thousand,' an unfamiliar voice pitched from behind that mask. And there was a distinct smile in that voice.

Eren stared at the masked face.

Oh, that fucking _creep._

 

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Macbillan's Dictionary :
> 
> Masked Vigilante (noun):
> 
> 1\. One who wears a mask and takes or advocates the taking of law enforcement into one's own hands.  
> 2\. A hero of the masses.  
> 3\. A fucking creep.


	52. Haunted - Hunted

 

 

Chapter-52- Haunted-Hunted

~.~

 

Armin sat against the wall of the passageway, his attempts to drown the voices from outside failing at every juncture. He could hear the taunts, the laughter, the blunt hammering of the gavel and a steady shout of 'Kneel! Kneel! Kneel!', none of which assured him. He was, after all, a young man of sensitive constitution. A young man who did not understand this strange world he found himself in.

There was the cacophony of noises from outside again.

_Thump! Thump! Thud!_

A shiver ran up his arms; Armin bowed his head, took a deep, pained breath and closed his eyes in penance. He'd sold his friend in exchange for his own safety. He'd chickened out and let Eren face the demons in his stead. What a coward you are, Armin berated his fledgling conscience; a white feather that’s what he was. He looked up to give those double doors a dreadful look. His best friend—Eren Jaeger: boy wonder, the guy who didn’t know when to call it quits, the guy who shouldered all his troubles by himself— had disappeared beyond those doors. He’d taken Armin’s place in the den of wolves. How was Armin supposed to live with himself now? How was he going to face Mrs Jaeger? Christ, how was he going to look gramps in the eye?

There was an adage his grandfather often quoted.

_The darkest places in hell, my boy, are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis._

Armin squirmed in his spot. He turned to face the bricked wall behind him and slammed his forehead against it. He struck it once, twice and shut his eyes grimacing from the dull ache forming in his skull. Yes, he was going to hell for sure. Or maybe he was already swimming knee-deep in the filth of its entrails and bowels.

He heard the doors open behind him, and for a moment— for a tiny fraction of a moment— Armin hoped that the ordeal had come to an end, and that his friend was returning to him. But he was wrong. The light from the mockfest flooded into the passageway, bringing with it those horrendous voices again: the jeering, hooting and cat-calling. Armin's head snapped towards the newcomer. It was one of those bounty hunters again, the taller one with streaks of dyed yellow in his shaggy dark hair. The man stalked towards him, booming out a smoke-cracked laugh. Apparently, the terms of the bargain had already been forgotten. The game of tag had begun, and Armin was 'it' this time.

'Le lapin, come herrreee,’ the man motioned, his voice hoarse. His eyes raked up Armin from head to toe, and he licked his lips. ‘Come here. I bet you're lonely, my little rabbit.'

A shudder travelled up Armin's spine. He gave the bounty hunter a look of thorough disgust.

'So, you want me, huh?' Armin asked, tugging at his corded wrists and examined the corridor behind him.

The Titan nodded earnestly, opening his arms in invite.

'Yes, don't play hard to get, mon cherie. Come to me.'

'Well, old man, if you want this rabbit... you gotta catch it first,' saying which Armin did a one eighty and fled in the other direction. Which wasn't a great idea on hindsight. Because Armin Arlert, college grad, part time saint, full time whiz kid, MMORPG games strategist, decathlon champion and a great many other things was unfortunately not a sprinter. He’d been bullied in middle school for having chicken legs. He’d given up in the school marathon too (Eren had to eventually piggyback him from the halfway mark). And despite the years, he was still immeasurably poor at anything that required hand-leg coordination.

And as soon as he took off, the bounty hunter gave chase. The blond heard the man curse behind him, the captor's footsteps closing in. Armin ran like his life depended on it, pushing himself onward, wondering how many twists and turns this corridor was going to take. What if the man had accomplices lurking in a corner? What if he ran into a dead end?

He was running out of air already; he was even beginning to see the flaws in his methods… but there was the bounty hunter gaining on him. The boy clammed up, realising that he was going to be outrun soon.

He’d be stuck in this alien world forever. And he was going to become some pervert's le lapin.

Yeah, this was not the future career Armin Arlert had envisaged for himself. He was so going to kill Jean Kirstein if he managed to scrape out of this mess.

Suddenly, as Armin turned another corner, he saw an arm reach out and grab him by his jacket's sleeve.

Armin’s eyes widened, flushed with horror, and he thrashed against his new captor.

'NO, LET ME G-!'

A hand muffled his mouth, drawing him into a safe enclosure.

‘Armin, it’s me!’

Armin gave a sigh of relief when he found it was Marco. Good ol' Marco. Marco in his sleek, black jacket and combat boots. Marco without the usual comforting smile but a sobriety to his face. The freckled man pushed Armin behind him and turned to face the bounty hunter as he arrived, panting.

The man stopped, clearly spent, and considered Marco.

'Another Earthling?' the thug asked after a frost-laden moment, looking pleased as he gave the taller one a careful look over. The toad made a small sound of approval, liking what he saw. Maybe, he had a kink for freckles too. Armin didn't really want to dwell on the man's fetishes.

Marco returned a gratuitous smile.

'Unfortunately, sir… no, I'm a Titan. Though it's people like you who make me wish I wasn't,' Marco remarked and raised his arm. Armin caught sight of a jaded hilt held between those fingers. A sharp blade extended out of the handgrip, rising to the length of his arm. There was a marked disgust on Marco’s face as he held the weapon aloft.

'Marco Bott, PeaceCorp... at your service.'

The bounty hunter did not look pleased at the announcement.

'PeaceCorp? You work for the State?' he repeated in distaste.

Before the man could reach for the gun in his holster, Marco spun the blade and slammed the heavy hilt into the bounty-hunter's guts, sinking it into tender flesh and making the douchebag double over in pain. And then, Armin watched stupefied as Marco clasped the bounty hunter's head. The older man hastened to struggle out of the armhold, but Marco slid his hand to the renegade's shoulder and pulled the fiend's feet from under him. The goon fell in a heap, groaning from the fall. He hit the ground headfirst, reeling from a concussion; and after yet another hit from the blunt end of Marco’s blade, he was finally knocked out for good.

Marco retracted his blade into the hilt, and rubbed his hands together, looking plenty satisfied with himself. He turned to find Armin watching him in amazement.

'Ah, sorry... about that?' Marco said, scratching his nape in embarrassment.

'Sorry,' Armin repeated. 'What the hell are you apologising for? For being a gentleman badass? For being Bruce Lee and Joseph Gordon Levitt all rolled into one?'

Marco looked at him confusedly.

'Who's Bruce Lee? And Joseph Gordon what?'

Armin didn't answer him. Instead, the blond wobbled past Marco and headed over to the man lying supine on the ground. He kicked the man's head. 'That's for kidnapping me! PERVERT!' he almost spat at the unconscious man.

Another kick.

'That's for Eren, you jerk.'

He planted a last hit.

'And that's... because everything should happen in three's.'

Armin turned to Marco with a gratified smile.

'Okay, I'm done. Let's go rescue Eren.'

 

 

 

 

 

It had become sort of a habit. Taking the last day off. The last day of Eren's assignments in Titan. It became so obvious a pattern that his squad planned for it in advance, and Oluo tried his hardest to be his stand-in replacement. A riot? Too bad, the Corporal won't be around, they murmured in mutiny. Missing runaways? We’ll just have to handle it on our _own._ A dangerous red-listed droid causing havoc on civilian grounds? Nope, can't count on the Corporal's assistance. Erd, Gunther, Petra and Oluo would have that goofy grin plastered to their faces as they gently factored their superior out of the schedule. It was the least they could do, Petra would assure Levi in her subtle ways.

But what did he and Eren ever do on those last days together?

He didn't remember any conversations... except for a lecture thrown in where Levi would remind Eren to not get carried away with heroics on the other side. _You're a soldier, not one of your comic book heroes. Try not to get yourself killed. I'm your husband, not your fuckin’ nurse._

While Eren would extract an equivalent promise that Levi wouldn't overwork himself to death.

Two people trying to make a relationship work despite their origins and despite the distances between.

When the moment of parting came, the older man wouldn’t be found sentimental. He vowed never to show that side of himself. Instead, he'd be sitting before the telescreen, grey eyes fixed on the news, the corrupt politicians reading their scripted speeches while he'd hear Eren packing-unpacking that duffel bag of his. The irresponsible brat was always packing till the very last moment. Krobe would follow the youngster at his heels, tailing him, barking at him and being an all-round nuisance. Whether the droid was actively trying to annoy Eren or just plain curious, one could never tell.

'Shit! Have you seen my socks? I can’t find my socks. If your dog chewed them again, I swear I'll dismantle—'

'Which ones?' Levi asked from the couch, ignoring the threat made to Krobe.

'Striped, blue, a bit frayed. Krobe, no, outta my way— So, have you seen them?'

'Closet, third row.'

There would be a pause, and then the sound of the closet being searched.

'... got it, thanks! You wouldn't know where my belt—?'

Levi rolled his eyes and sighed.

'Under the bed.'

'... right. You're amazing. What would I do—' Eren said, emerging with the belt and pausing at the doorway of the bedroom. He’d watch Levi's back, growing oddly quiet. '...without you,' the young man would finish in a strangely glum voice. There would be that sigh. 'Seriously. What the hell would I do without you?'

Levi cleared his throat, leaving the question unanswered.

'Aren't you getting late? Eighteen hundred hours at HQ, right? You don't want to miss your space bus, trooper.'

And he'd hear the footsteps paddle over to the couch. There would be a soft, brown head nuzzling into his shoulder. The cheerfulness would be gone, replaced by despair and yearning.

'Six months,' Eren would say, locking his arms around the older man's shoulders and nestling into his neck. 'I'll be back in six months. So, _please_ … please wait for me.'

Levi said nothing, the cup of sage tea held steady in his hand, and grey eyes staring ahead at the telescreen.

'I know it's a long time—' Eren would try to explain.

Levi would bring up a hand to ruffle the head on his shoulder.

'Go,' Levi would finally say. 'And if you think I'll be moping around with you gone, you've got another thing coming.'

Eren would chuckle, pressing a kiss to his ear and lingered there.

'One of these days, sir... you are going to miss me. Like real bad.'

Levi scoffed.

'Are you trying to convince me or yourself?'

'There's no you or me, Rivaille. There is just 'us' now,' Eren would conclude, drawing back and slinging his bag over a shoulder. The younger man would hold up his right hand, a mischievous smile to his lips, and he’d point to the ring. He would ball the same hand into a fist, bring it down and place it upon his heart. He’d stand tall and proud before Levi.

'Corporal,' he'd call out. 'Permission to leave?'

Levi would watch him over the rim of his teacup, trying to memorise Eren’s face in the pensive silence that followed.

'... Granted,’ he’d finally say, flicking his head to the door. ‘Now, get out of my life.'

Eren always bristled with laughter as he left through the door. The young peacekeeper would depart, leaving Levi with the shadows, teacups and heavy silences— things that had been his comrades for years but were now rendered cold strangers to him.

 

_There is just 'us' now._

 

_There was no us in the first place._

 

_Us._

 

He thought he'd broken it. He thought he'd burnt that word to ashes, left behind all attachments and insinuations to the past. And yet, there was one which kept returning to him like a boomerang. Levi saw the boy kneeling on the dais and looking straight at him, confused at first, and then glowering at him with a fury unrivalled. The Vigilante felt a hyper-awareness as he met that furious gaze with his own. Just when he thought he'd never see that sunlit face again, just when he was beginning to forget the curve of that familiar jaw, the slope of those tanned shoulders and those eyes, Eren Jaeger had returned to haunt him with his feverish stare.

Levi prided himself in being a man of control. But there was an anger rising within him— a quiet, simmering anger that his best plans lay in ruins.

He peeled his eyes away from Eren and looked around at the crowd. They were watching him— some wary, others expectant.

Around two hundred and fifty men.

Were these scum worth his time?

He heard Farlan get up from his seat.

'Any orders, Captain?' his aide whispered. 'Do you want us to move in now—'

Levi shook his head and let slip a laugh.

'We're not here to save anyone, Beelzebub. Least of all, a _moron_. Let me remind you of the mission's objective. To wipe these scumbags from our turf. Nothing more, nothing less.'

'But Le—Captain,' Farlan caught the slip of his tongue in time. The rebel leader’s attention darted to the dais, his gaze lingering on the young man kneeling on it. His voice dropped low to a hiss, and he leaned in, speaking against Levi’s shoulder. 'What about _him_? He's come this far. And if we don't do something—'

Levi scratched the chin of his mask with one gloved hand. He shrugged in nonchalance.

'It was his decision to come here. Let the brat face the consequences of it. Move back to your positions and wait for my word. I want Belial's men ousted.'

Farlan stared at him in disbelief. 'What’re you thinking, Captain? Are you really going to stand here and do nothing? Are you going to just stand here and watch him suffer?' his friend asked.

'He's my ward, Church. A soldier. He can handle it.'

Farlan scoffed at those words. Shaking his head, he pulled away from Levi, returning to his post.

Levi turned back to the young man on the dais and surveyed him.

A soldier.

His ward.

When did duty die and affection take its place? Should he have never allowed those walls to crumble in the first place? Was he really going to stand here and enjoy watching him suffer?

Yes.

He was the devil, after all.

Levi had already sold his soul.

 

 

 

 

The lava lamps were beginning to daze him. There was the suffocating heat of the crowd's scrutiny; their jeers ringing in his ears. Eren heard Perenti pull the auctioneer aside, away from the mike and away from everyone's earshot.

'Tell me, good fellow. Is it really true? Is that the _Vigilante_?' Perenti demanded, his voice clearly edgier than before. Something had him rattled and nervous.

The emcee broke into cold sweat.

'N-No, it can’t be him. Why would he be participating in a slave auction? Besides, I heard he snapped Lord Belial's fingers. Index finger and a _pinky_ too!’ the auctioneer cringed at the imagery of his own words. ‘I even h-heard rumours he brought down Mammon on his own turf. If this were really the Vigilante, why would he be bidding for an alien runt?'

The bounty hunter didn’t look any comforted by the knowledge. 'It's not him then. Continue with the sale and hurry! The sooner we wrap this up, the easier I'd feel. If I don't get a fair deal here, I'll take the Earthborns to Belemoth, you hear? So, make it snappy.'

The dealer agreed and toddled back to the mike. He feigned a smile at his audience effortlessly, bowed to them, particularly to the masked man at the back. 'Five thousand says the gentleman in the booth. Do we have anyone willing to—'

'Five thousand and five hundred,' someone raised the stakes, as if tossing imaginary chips across a poker table.

'Six thousand! I'm not getting out of this bargain that easily, ya hear!'

Eren didn't look up to see who it was. Not anymore. He couldn’t care less. He stared at the ground and let the predators squabble, each trying to outdo the other. At times, he'd meet Jean's face and he'd see the concern in those narrow, hazel eyes. Jean’s face was awash with anger.

Eren watched as his partner raised his hand again.

'S-Seven thousand' Jean said, never taking his eyes off Eren.

Eren almost laughed at the ashbrown. What was Jean thinking? Where would he get the money from even if he managed to overcome the Titans in this gamble?

The auctioneer hummed in delight.

'Aye! The man in cloak says seven thousand. Does anyone want to outbid the last price? Going once, going twice—' the auctioneer stalled, looking at the crowd expectantly.

Strangely, all eyes turned to the masked man sitting at the back, still perched on the table with his legs folded under him. The inkblot face lifted his head, giving Eren a long, tarrying look. As if appraising him. As if gauging his worth.

A voice spoke out of that mask.

Unfamiliar.

Brutal.

'I'm not sure I want to raise the bar, gentlemen,' the man with the Rorschach mask said, his words drawling and coated in vitriol. 'All we’ve heard is talk. But a mouth gives no guarantee on the _quality_ of the merchandise.'

The words took a moment to sink in, and when they did, everyone took to the bait in eagerness.

‘He’s right. Let’s see the boy without his clothes!’

'Strip!'

'Take off your clothes!'

A chorus sounded immediately.

'AYYYYY! STRIP! STRIP! STRIP!'

Eren looked at the crowd aghast and turned towards the masked man, the rage threatening to spill from him. Eren struggled against his handcuffs, hands balling into fists at the sheer humiliation. It was all that fucker's fault. And the masked man despite sensing his anger seemed unperturbed by it. The inkblot pattern changed, the dots swirling as if testing him. Eren turned to the sound of footsteps behind him. There was Perenti walking towards him now. The bounty hunter grabbed his arm, and Eren was yanked forcibly to his feet. Eren curled his lip and snarled, but the bounty hunter met him with equal disdain. He jabbed a key into Eren’s metal restraints and unlocked his handcuffs.

The shackles fell to the ground with an audible clink.

'What are you waiting for?' someone in the audience said, tossing a canister on to the platform. ‘C’mon, give us a show. Strip!’ Eren watched the can bounce and skid against the podium. The sound grated on Eren's nerves, so did the corrosive words.

'You heard' em, boy,' Perenti nudged the small of his back. 'Do it. Give them a show.'

Eren looked down at his freed hands. Freed but still chained. Freed but still at their mercy. He wondered how many others had been subjected to this abuse and shame. Were they people like him? People who'd been taken forcibly from his world? It wasn't just his false virginity on sale anymore, he understood. It was his pride and humanity.

Perenti grew impatient and pinched the skin of Eren's arm. 'Stop stalling,’ the man hissed. ‘Do it, you little beast.'

Eren gritted his teeth.

Beast, huh? Well, he was going to show them just how much of an animal he really was.

He shook himself free from the bounty-hunter's clutches. Eren raised a shaking arm and grabbed hold of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Wrenching the material in his hand, he tossed it towards the crowd. The crowd of felons and perverts lunged for it, catcalling in appreciation. Their eyes raked every bit of him, elated at the display of bare skin, elated to have gotten a rise out of him.

Hooting and wolf whistles erupted at the sight of his naked torso. Without stopping to reconsider, Eren unbuckled his belt next, yanked it off with a loud snarl and then, unzipped his jeans. He stepped out of it, one pant at a time. When he was done, he tossed the leather band and denim into the crowd: bulky, hairy arms reaching out to catch the tributes as if they were a rare prize. Stranded thus in nothing but his underwear— his $2-a-piece boxers that he’d bought at the department store back home— Eren looked up at that one man at the back of the gallery, his turquoise green eyes staring fiercely at that mask. He met the challenge head-on.

His breathing was laboured, his lungs drowning in the storm fall of his own anger.

Rorschach had been his childhood hero.

But no, not this _freak._

Eren could feel his sweat drying from exposure to the air, and the brunet turned his attention back to the circle of creeps around him. They whistled at him appreciatively, and there were more lewd gestures made. Of all the things the men wanted to do to him.  

Eren laughed at them and held out his arms wide.

'There you go, assholes,' he told the voyeurs. 'Gawk all you want. You came to buy me? Go ahead. You can buy this body,’ he snapped, his eyes narrowed into daggers. ‘But if you think, if you really think I'm gonna come easy, you're dead wrong. Because if you haven't noticed, you bastards, I'm a human just like you. Eyes, nose, mouth, heart, guts, all of it. We're not that different!'

He paused.

'And if you want to buy my humanity, my soul, you CAN'T have it! I will never bow to you bastards. NEVER to the likes of you, you sick lowlifes!'

Eren stood, breathless and red, not from embarrassment this time. He'd been stripped before in a court, and he'd been mortified by the event. But this time, the redness in his face was from an all-consuming rage. There was a short silence in the wake of his words. Eren sank down on his knees with his right fist upon his heart. He let his brown head sink to his chest, trying to calm himself down.

But if he'd hoped to get through to the perverts, he'd been wrong.

Because there was a new chant in the air now.

'Insolence! PUNISHMENT!' screamed one.

'Mouthin' off, ain't he?'

'Put him in his place!' decreed another. 'Who does he think he is? Lecturing us when he is the outcast among us! We don't want to buy a slave who talks back.'

Eren heard Perenti stiffen behind him, the man turning exasperated at how this sale was not panning out as he’d planned. Eren looked up to find the bounty-hunter glaring at him, looking thoroughly displeased. The man stalked over to the auctioneer; words were exchanged, and Perenti reached under the cover of the deck, and took out something.

Eren saw the headgear and the cables attached to the sleek white machine.

His eyes widened.

He knew what that was.

Perenti walked back to him. The middle-aged man stooped before Eren and gave him a condescending smile, his voice like a whip-crack. ‘Can’t buy your soul, you say? You’re dead wrong, twerp. Know what this is?' the man asked, motioning to the machine in his hands.

Eren stared at the headgear. He knew what it was. He'd been experimented and toyed with it once before. His memories sold to the State by the very man he’d trusted them with.

Perenti noticed the hunted look in his eyes, taking satisfaction in the terror forming in them. 'This is a TSM, a simple machine that helps to invade the mind. We can get inside your brain and truly fuck you up. You understand, you self-righteous little tool?'

Perenti grabbed his arm and dug his nails into Eren’s skin.

'Do you realize the trouble you've caused for us? Do you have any idea? We'll sell every inch of you for what it's worth. And if you're going to resist and keep running off that pretty mouth of yours, we will get into your head, pick your brain apart, pickle it and devour it slowly. We will take away ALL your memories, and you can start with a blank slate. We will get you brainwashed as our own personal plaything. You get me, slave?'

Eren stared at the bounty hunter.

Memories?

His memories.

'Eren! Come out, come out, wherever you are, my little punk!' Carla Jaeger called out to him as he hid under the bed.

'Get up, you slacker! It's eight already!' Armin yelled at him from the door of his dorm room. 'We're going to be late for Prof Ned's class.'

'Eren, can I have your French Toast if you're not going to eat it?' he remembered Sasha grabbing for his breakfast without ever waiting for his answer.

'You had what most of us spend an eternity trying to find,' Annie told him in her basement, amidst the ruins of a workbench.

There was Jean.

'You persevere in everything you do, Jaeger.'

And then, there was him. Grey eyes, gentle hands.

'Open your mouth, chaos.'

Eren Jaeger shrunk back in terror, writhing. All his bravado bled through him. _No, don’t,_ he mumbled in anguish.

Memories were all that he had.

 

 

 

 

Jean didn't know what that thing in the bastard's hands was… but he knew it was something truly sinister. He'd never seen Eren afraid before, not for his safety, not even for his own life. Not even when stripped down to his boxers had the young keeper looked intimidated. Until _now_. The brunet crawled backwards, until he hit the wall of the dais. The suicidal bastard of yesterday shook his head violently at the sight of the machine in the thug's hands.

Jean knew enough was enough.

 _No more of this crap_ , he seethed under his breath.

Two hundred people. He wouldn't stand a chance. But he wasn't going to sit tight and watch this disgusting show any longer. Jean Kirstein reached into his jacket and pulled out the Swiss army knife. He pushed through the cheering crowd, cursing the Titans as he forced his way through their bulk and muscle, and finally reached the platform.

'Hey!' he barked at the fiend, who was grabbing hold of Eren's head and trying to force the strange helmet on him. 'Get your hands off my—'

Just as Jean climbed on to the podium, he heard a whistle pierce the air. And there was the familiar ricocheting of cables. A hustle broke out in different sections of the crowd as a small group of armed men, began to take down people in the circle of spectators. A grappling gun was shot, the hook struck the podium wall with a crack, anchoring to it. Jean watched as the masked bidder from before landed on the dais. Never losing his momentum, he ambled over to the bounty hunter, grabbed the man by his neck and pulled him off Eren.

The bounty hunter looked back at the man paralyzed.

'That's enough from you,' the masked man said, his voice sounding gruff and monochrome.

'Shit. So, it is y-you. The Vigilante.'

The man with the inkblot face said nothing and dug his fingers into his captive’s neck. He looked at Eren as he grabbed the TSM from the ground, took one of the wires from the machine and wound it around Perenti’s neck, choking him in his surprise.

The masked man gave a sardonic chuckle as he beckoned to Eren.

'That was a fine speech, kid. But you don't reason with wild dogs. You put them down. The swifter...' he tightened the grip on the cable, pulling it tight, '— the better,' he said, wringing the ends of the wire together, leaving his captive choking and gasping. The bounty hunter's eyes rolled back into his head until the man went limp, legs convulsing like a trapped canine being euthanized.  The sound of the man's spine snapping echoed.

The masked man in the fedora and trench coat looked long at the dying man before dropping him to the floor. The body collapsed on the deck, twitching.

Without any hint of remorse, the masked stranger next walked over to Eren and crouched before him.

The peacekeeper shrank back against the wall, distraught.

'Eighteen-year-old virgin, huh?' the masked man asked.

There was a misplaced mirth in his tone as he reached out with a hand to touch Eren’s cheek.

The younger man shook his head fiercely, shrinking into a ball.

'Don't touch me, you freak.'

There was a pause. A heavy pause.

And Jean thought he saw the inkblot pattern on the mask change. He watched as the stranger caught Eren's arm in a grip and with his other reached into his trench coat to pull out a syringe. Despite Eren kicking and putting up a struggle, the man stuck the needle into the tanned skin of the young keeper's forearm. Eren winced, blue green eyes widening at the assault.

Jean careened towards them with his knife poised to attack. 'Hey!’ he snarled. ‘What did you just do—'

But the other man seemed to have eyes on his back as well. For an elbow shot out, and Jean's feet were swept clean from under him. The ashbrown felt the ground slip, landing painfully on his back.

_Dammit._

'Calm down, knucklehead,' the masked man said, his voice curt as he watched the youngster in his arms go limp. Eren’s eyes closed, imprecations dying before they could make their way out of his mouth. When the boy was finally out cold, the masked man placed a gentle hand on the brunet's hip and began hauling Eren’s body over his shoulder.

‘Hey. What did you do to him?’ Jean demanded, groaning from his spot on the floor. ‘What the fuck did you _do_ to him, you creep?’

The man with the inkblot face stood up, carrying Eren secure on his shoulder.

'Heh. Do you want to be tranquilized too?' he asked, directing the question at Jean who glared back viciously.

'Where are you taking Eren? PUT HIM DOWN!' Jean barked.

There was a 'tch' in annoyance.

'Are there more of you morons around?' the Vigilante asked.

 

* * *

 

 


	53. The Puppy

 

 

Chapter-53- The Puppy

~.~

 

 

In the parking lot outside Stanley Memorial Hospital, a vending machine sucked in a fresh bill and returned nothing. Apparently, the age-old philosophy of barter and equivalent exchange was lost upon it. All the blonde woman had wanted was a pack of Marlboros and a can of Diet Coke. Her goddam nicotine fix and a beverage... that was all she had ever wanted. But the virtuous machine didn't seem to agree with her choices of a late night binge. It was fifteen minutes past midnight. To quote Gale, it was 12:15 am on Earth's time. And Annie Leonhart was brooding and vexed, no thanks to the collective asininity of machines and humans around her.

The parking lot was deserted save for the emergency ambulance on stand-by. One of the paramedics noticed that she was alone and jogged over to her. Ah, the male chauvinist. Forever to the rescue of the damsel in distress, whether she wanted to be rescued or not. It was a bad move on his part. Conversation never came easy to Annie but this blighter; this tail-end life form on the spectrum of male intelligence seemed even more handicapped at making small talk. A crew cut, a French-beard and even a dimpled smile couldn't save him. Somewhere along the way, the boy fumbled and tried to ask her out.

Her.

Annie.

Annie Leonhart, renegade officer of PeaceCorps, collared dog of the State, trained in arm to arm combat, kickboxing and an ace sniper. The best of her division. And this oblivious fool was asking her out. She didn't catch the paramedic's name. Annie figured she wouldn't need it.

There was a nervousness to him, which some women might find endearing. But no, not her.

The young man was still hitting on her.

'So… you single? Listen, uh, I run the night shifts but I should be here by seven. Provided we don't run into any DUI or suicide cases. But hey... if you're around, there is a quiet little cafe around the block. Right next to the blood bank,' the guy prattled away as he gave her directions to this supposed cafe. 'So, you wanna grab a cup of coffee or...?'

Annie looked at him coolly, sizing him up from head to toe.

'Depends on who's asking,' she said diplomatically, looking between him and his buddies who stood by the emergency ambulance. There seemed to be a bet going on.

'Um, me?' answered the lad, smirking at her. 'And hey, for what it's worth, I'm mouth to mouth certified too,' he pitched and burst into laughter at his own pickup line.

Annie stared.

The young man grew nervous under the intensity of her gaze.

'I mean... uh, I am certified in CPR. Mouth to mouth... you get it?'

The cheap pickup line was the end of him. Annie smiled at him benevolently before striding up to the young man. She leaned across one muscled shoulder. The paramedic had never expected her to make the move first. For a moment, the silly man thought she was going to take up his offer on the kiss. Instead, Annie raised a leg and brought her boot down. She stamped on his right foot with all her might and dug her heel across his toes.

The paramedic howled in agony.

'Go home, little boy,' she whispered against his ear, her lips quirking up in delight.

She dug her boot harder into his tennis shoe, eliciting another yelp.

'Owww, ow, what the heck—' the man winced and staggered back, nodding in regret. Bitch, she heard him utter as he backed away to a safer distance. He limped back to the emergency van, still cursing her as he tended to his injured foot.

That should teach him a lesson, Annie thought.

The blonde returned to her duel with the vending machine. There was suddenly a call on the hospital's intercom and a flurry of words were exchanged between the nurse and the medical personnel. Annie watched the paramedics leap into the ambulance. The vehicle pulled away from the curb, the red siren spinning and shrilling in the silence. She hated that godawful sound. It reminded her of growing up in a crummy neighborhood, reminded her of long training sessions spent with the punching bag and her father's untimely demise from a cardiac arrest.

Told you, pops, didn't I? You should'ave taken it easy, she murmured with a humorless voice.

You must be all bones now.

Annie rubbed her hands together for warmth. She wondered what death felt like.

Did the maggots feast on you? Did the worms eat away every bit of your flesh? Are you happy where you are now?

She remembered twirling a lily between her fingers, while standing on the cemetery grounds. She had begun smoking back then. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust, the priest recited as they lowered the casket into the ground. There were ashes at her feet and dust on her tongue. When the service was done, she remembered the crowd of mourners leaving in a file. They left her standing under an oak tree. She remembered a young man coming up to her. He gave her a funny bow and held out a card.

She didn't read it; instead Annie had dropped it into the mud and kicked the dirt over the card. People often called her a selfish and cold bitch, but little did they realise that she merely reflected them. Annie Leonhart was the mirror of society, and cruelty came easy to her.

The young man did not lose heart. He reached into his briefcase, pulled out his whole box of visiting cards and passed them to her with a wry smile.

'Why are you giving me this?' Annie asked. 'Who the hell are you?' she demanded, looking revolted at him.

The man straightened his tie. Towering over her, he gave a faint smile.

'The name's Bertolt. Bertolt Hoover.'

Annie considered him over her burning cigarette. She gauged his straight face, his broad shoulders and the ridiculous height.

'Shit. You're tall. Your mother a giraffe?'

'Uh…thanks?' the man said, not sure if it was a compliment or an insult. 'And no, she was a regular human.'

She chuckled at that. It was a morbid laugh but she was glad she was still capable of mirroring a smile.

'Regular human, huh? You're…. cute. So, what are you? A debt collector? The friendly face of the funeral service? The tactless pantry guy?'

'No, uh, I am the insurance guy from Metlife's Claims and Settlements department. Your father… the late Mr Leonhart was covered under our Annuity and Endowment Plan. You have my condolences, by the way.'

Annie took a moment to understand what he was saying. She returned a blank, puzzled look.

'So, you're here to give me money?' Annie paraphrased, staring at him.

Bertolt paused, unnerved by her scrutiny. What was with this girl?

'Yes... Ms Leonhart,' he answered politely.

Without giving any prior warning, Annie closed the distance between them. She caught his striped tie and pulled him down to eye level. And she spent a long moment judging Bertolt and the features of his long face.

'And what if I don't want your money?' she finally asked. And there it was. Her way of stating the cold, hard truths.

The insurance guy looked uncomfortable under her vivid stare.

'Um, what do you... want then?'

Annie was quiet, and Bertolt noted for the first time the sad glimmer in her blue eyes.

'What I want, huh? I just lost the only person who cared about me. My daddy. And you think money can replace that, giant? You ask me what I want… A family. But you can't give me that, can you?'

Bertolt Hoover was left speechless.

At his silence, she gave a soft, bitter laugh which echoed through the graveyard silence. She drew back.

'See, what did I tell you?' she said and tossed the rest of his visiting cards into the mud. 'You can't help me.'

Stuffing her small hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt, Annie Leonhart began walking away.

Suddenly, the young man spoke up. His voice hesitant at first but when Annie turned to him, there was a determination on his face. They had been strangers moments ago but now, there was an unspoken understanding.

'Yes… I can,' the man answered.

Annie stared at him.

'What?'

'I can give you a family.'

There was a silence, and Annie remembered the oak leaves rustling with the friendly breeze. She remembered the words of the stranger.

'Even if I...' Annie supposed, '— wear the pants in the relationship?'

Bertolt gave a small, quiet smile. Something she learnt to cherish in the years to come.

'As you wish.'

That had been years ago. They'd met in the graveyard and apparently, they would part in the same place. Not if Annie could help it. She kicked the vending machine for the fourth time. Her hands trembled. But if it was from the absence of her nicotine fix or the emotions unfurling in the pit of her stomach, she couldn't say. She collapsed on a bench in a huddle and drawing up her knees, she looked at the sky. The mysterious illusion of space gleamed above her. Doppler's effect of red and blue were lost upon her. But she could see the playful stars cast in the heavens up there. Stars which good mothers told stories about. Shooting stars that were supposed to make your wishes come true.

She reached into her pockets and found the hilt of the zirconium blade. Not hers. It was that guy's. Jean Kirstein, wasn't it? The one with Eren. She took it out and extended the blade. A quick glance around assured her that she was indeed alone in the parking lot. She strolled over to the vending machine and lifted her arm, aiming a clean slice at it.

A familiar voice spoke up.

'I wouldn't do that if I were you. That would be violation of section IX.'

The blonde woman turned, and she found herself in the presence of a man in a navy blue uniform.

D. E. Lawrence looked immaculate as always. Though his face was still like a toad's.

'A PeaceCorp is to refrain from damaging infrastructure, property and life on Earth. That is unless authorized. Or so says section IX.'

Annie scorned him.

'Took your sweet time, didn't you, Lawrence?'

She noticed there was another person in their company. She jabbed a thumb in the stranger's direction.

'Who's he?'

'Niles Driscoll from the Sina Military Police,' Lawrence answered and sat down on the bench. He studied his nails in boredom. 'Is it true? You have information for us?'

Annie turned to the vending machine and retracted the zirconium blade back into its hilt. She walked over to the bench and retrieved a small machine from under it. She tossed the white processor and the headgear to Lawrence.

'What is this? The Transverse Subconscious Merger? You invaded someone's mind without the State's authorization? Do you have any idea—'

'Yes. And I don't care about your rules and regulations,' Annie cut in sharply, frowning at the man. 'Because your answers are there. And I hope you remember our deal, Lawrence.'

The misogynist looked at the machine in his hand. There was a curious expression on his wrinkled face.

'Depends on whether I am interested in what you're offering.'

Annie chuckled. 'Oh, I will have you eating out of my palm alright.'

Niles Driscoll who'd been hitherto looking around at the Sylvan landscape with mistrust, turned to Annie with a gleam in his eyes. 'Is that so? What's the information?' Niles interrupted.

'Oh, something you Titans have been struggling to locate for the last twenty five years.'

'Stop beating about the bush, Leonhart,' urged Lawrence.

'Yes. Enough with the smoke and mirrors. What's the information?' Niles prompted impatiently.

Annie turned towards Stanley Memorial Hospital— towards the grey scale architecture of its short buildings but Annie couldn't see the flowers. She couldn't spot the Garden of Eden from this distance.

'Grisha Jaeger,' was all Annie said.

The men shared a glance before Lawrence turned to Annie with a smile.

'Now, you're talking business, Annie. Finally, you're talking business.'

 

 

 

 

'For the love of Mael, Nyse and the whole pantheon of Titan Gods, will someone— _anyone_ —' Isabel Magnolia grumbled, as she checked the pulse of a limp wrist. '—please explain to me why there is a naked young man lying on my bed. Not that I'm complaining, but _still_. A woman needs her answers,' Izzie grouched, spinning towards the two men standing in the room. Levi was leaning against the wall, face shrouded in shadows, mystery and that stupid mask of his. She knew there was little chance of squeezing answers out of _hermano_ so she turned to the other camouflaged sentient in the room.

'Farlan, what's going on?' she demanded, indicating to the tranquilized young man on the bed. 'Who’s the boy?'

Farlan turned to Levi, unsure of what he ought to say.

'It’s him, right?' Farlan tried to confirm, his words coming deliberate and low.

The man in the trench coat merely nodded, pressing a thumb to the chin of his mask.

There was a short-lived silence.

‘Yes,’ came the answer.

'How long do you think we can keep him sedated?' was Farlan’s next question.

Here, the masked man turned oddly silent. Under the guise of the inkblot face and the voice modulator buried in the man's undercut, it was easy to forget that this was indeed Levi. While the voice was deep and gruff, it sounded at times, as if Levi were speaking from the depths of a pool of water.  

'How _long_ , Captain?' Farlan urged again.

'Until I figure out what to do with him.'

Farlan wasn’t easily convinced.

'Captain,’ he began wearily. ‘Whether you like it or not, he and his friends are already here. And I don't believe throwing them out into the wilderness is a wise idea. They won't survive the desert. Three Earthlings and one from the bubble city. They won't last a day, and you know it. Lords, I have lived my entire life here, and I have seen so _many_ perish, I've stopped counting.'

The man in the trench coat surprisingly did not argue.

Farlan wasn't finished with his tirade and gave a heavy sigh. His attention drifted to the young man lying sedated on Izzie’s bed.

'What you did back there at the auction house, I don't approve of it,' the rebel leader muttered. 'Your methods. Your attitude. Do you realise the scars it may leave on him?'

There was no remorse in the voice that answered.

'He’s not a child, Church. He is twenty-three by earth years.'

Farlan shook his head, disagreeing.

'Perhaps. But he's not grown up the way we have. We were born here; we've been hardened by the Street. But he… comes from the other world, doesn't he?'

There was a dismissive snort from behind the mask. Levi turned to face him, inkblot pattern changing again.

'You're the one who wanted a ruthless commander, Farlan. And I am being just _that_. The man you wanted me to be,’ the remark was scathing. ‘Besides, the brat is strong. I know what he can handle… and what he can't.'

'Oh, is that so?' Farlan challenged with a diminutive nod. 'If you keep _pushing_ him this way, the kid's gonna break eventually. You want that to happen, Rivaille? You want to see him break?'

Isabel looked between the two men, puzzled. She held up her hands in confusion, trying to diffuse the charged atmosphere.

'Am I the only one lost in this conversation? Will someone please tell me what's going on—'

'How is he?' the Vigilante asked her suddenly.

Isabel frowned at the question. She didn't like how they were both ignoring her and treating her akin to wallpaper.

'All vital signs are normal, _hermano_. Pulse clocked at seventy. He seems to be calm and deep in REM. The sedative should keep him out for—'

She was interrupted by a voice.

All heads turned to the young man sleeping on the bed for the boy had whispered a word. For someone who'd had a rough day like he just did, who'd seen the regressive traits of humanity, been put on display for a vulgar show, the young peacekeeper had all the right to curse, lament and even cry.

Instead, he uttered one name. A singular name in a raspy breath. 

_Levi…_

 

Isabel stilled, wondering if she had heard it right. She turned from the brunet to the masked man, puzzlement lacing her features. When she heard the boy utter the name again, the redhead rubbed her forehead and gave Levi an accusing look.

The masked man remained frozen in his spot, the inkblot face remaining fixed on the boy.

Isabel frowned at him.

'Did he just say your name, _hermano_?' Izzie asked him, a silent accusation in her tone. 'How does he even know who you are?'

'Izzie,' Farlan warned, walking over to the redhead. He grabbed her elbow and eased her to the door. 'Come on, Isabel. Let's go downstairs. We should leave them alone.'

'Alone? Why? Why do we have to leave _them_ alone? Unless—' she turned between the masked face and the young man on her bed, finally making the connection. 'Oh, don't tell me. That's— Is that _him_?'

Farlan nodded solemnly.

Isabel tried to steal one last look at the brunet's face, thoroughly amused by the development. 'Good heavens. Why didn't anyone tell me before? By Nyse, that's some catch, _hermano_. He is gorgeous though don't tell Magnum I said that. And this kid put up with you for three years? He should get a medal, I—'

'Isabel!' Farlan warned jadedly.

She couldn't finish the rest of it because Farlan had pulled her out of the room and shut the door gently behind them.

And so, they were alone.

After what seemed like a lifetime.

The masked man's gaze moved around the room erratically, taking in the mess that was Isabel's inn. Levi observed the plaid curtains whispering with the night's breeze, the polished glass table, metal chair, the moth eaten rug and every oddity of the room except that one guy sleeping on the bed. His will was weaker than he had thought because there was that low voice calling his name again.

 

_Levi..._

 

Try as he might, Levi could not ignore that call. He left the support of the wall and walked over to the bed. He cast a quiet glance at Eren before taking a seat by the pillow. He didn't know why he was being needlessly quiet. The tranquilizer ought to put the troublemaker out for six more hours. Troublemaker... yeah, the boy was indeed a true troublemaker. How long had it been already? Two months? The eyes behind the mask scanned the outlines of the thin, lanky arms and taut muscles of the broad back. The brat seemed to have lost weight again. He didn't seem to have slept much either. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, the younger at peace with himself and the world around him. The masked man studied the profile of the sleeping boy before reaching for a folded blanket and spread it over the tanned skin. And as he did, he noted the grime and dirt sticking across the elbows and the skin of Eren's back. Levi reached into his coat and pulled out a handkerchief. He began wiping at the clinging dirt lines, rubbing them away patiently. Like a ritual that brought him some solace for all the terrible things he did. 

The boy was asleep, but his words were there to give him company.

 

_'Does this get you off? Did selling me out to the State get you off? Does BREAKING MY HEART GET YOU OFF, you sick fuck!'_

 

He grunted at the memory.

'Not even breaking your heart could keep you away, huh?' he whispered with a shake of his head.

There was no reply from the sedated young man.

'You've not been here for more than an hour and you've already won over their sympathies. You're like the puppy everyone wants to pet. A puppy who never knows when to stop playing... fetch.'

Again, there was no answer from the sleeping boy.

'You think you're the only one who's suffered?' the man with the inkblot face asked into the silence. 'It's gotten worse, you know,' he remarked, his white gloved hands rubbing at the dirt painstakingly. 'Much worse.'

_Levi…_

 

There was the drowsy murmur again. Low and husky. Like a bear cub in hibernation calling out to its mother. Levi found himself smiling at that image. And he wiped it away reluctantly.

The masked man bent over the younger's face until their foreheads touched. Eren's naked skin against his hood. Eren’s warm breath mingled into his.

'Don't call me by that name, Eren. The man you knew as Levi... is already dead.'

There was an empty silence that followed his words.

The man in the trench coat forced himself back and pressed a gloved hand over the youngster’s eyes, feeling the lids flutter under his touch.

He sighed into the quiet of Isabel's inn.

'Maybe, he was always dead. Perhaps he lived… only when you were by his side.'

 

 

 

_Who is the third who walks always beside you?_

_When I count, there are only you and I together_

_But when I look ahead up the white road_

_There is always another one walking beside you_

_Gliding, wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded._

What the thunder said, T. S. Eliot

 

 

 

 

Armin knew the world was coming to an end because he was missing… the potato girl and the bald shorty. And not just them. He missed his colour coded assignments arranged with care on his desk. He missed his laptop, though the Macintosh geeks on his floor would love to argue on why anyone in their right mind would miss a Windows OS. He missed the familiarity of his dormitory room. He missed the fact that he was the guaranteed favourite to ace the Quantum Mechanics paper. Except he wasn't going to be giving that midterm any time in the near future. Why? Well, because Armin Arlert had been tossed mercilessly across a bridge and lived to tell the tale. Because there was a two headed eel still swimming in his stomach. And because the blond was sitting at the bar counter of an alien kitchen in an alien world. And those dweebs at NASA had no idea.

Granted, this was better than being called le lapin by a creepy old man.

At least they were alive and safe, Armin decided... though Jean Kirstein would love to differ.

Armin was sitting between Marco and Jean, who were turning out to be polar opposites at dealing with the situation. Marco kept a calm demeanour as always, while Jean… well, it was a miracle Armin hadn't personally strangled the man. Because all through last night, while being cooped up in a single room with a guard posted outside, Jean hadn't stopped coming up with conspiracy theories. The ashbrown had been imagining the thousand and one ways in which Eren was being tortured.

He was still going at it.

'They might be doing unimaginable things to him…' Jean mumbled under his breath. 'Like what happens at Guantanamo Bay. My old man used to tell me nasty stories.'

Armin rolled his eyes and looked around the kitchen. He caught sight of the large dial on the wall. The clock was unusual for it showed just the numbers one to ten. And apparently, it was six thirty in the morning, and there was no sign of sunrise. The windows were shrouded in darkness and out in the backyard, Armin spotted one of the men operating a large rig in the blue, hazy colours of dawn. There was an odd sense of peace and tranquillity to the place. For the first time in ages, Armin felt safe... though he wished he knew where Eren was.

The Titans were standing against the cabinets in the kitchen. They whispered between themselves and glanced at the boys at times. Were they talking about Jean, Marco and him? The Titans had been genial enough to introduce themselves to the visitors. A man with dreadlocks who went by the name Magnum. A redhaired, pregnant woman with green eyes who was perhaps the most cheerful Titan he'd met— Isabel Magnolia. And finally a man with shrewd eyes and neat blond bangs hidden in the hood of his cloak, a person who introduced himself only as Farlan.

'That creep is up to something, I swear,' Jean muttered by his side. 'Eren could be in danger while we are sitting ducks here.'

Armin sighed and turned to the man on his right.

'Jean.'

'Yeah, shortie?'

'He kicked your ass. Get over it.'

Jean looked distraught.

There was a giggle from the woman. Her green eyes twinkled when Armin snapped his head towards her questioningly.

'If you're worried about your friend, rest assured. He is in safe hands.'

Jean didn't seem to buy it. 'After you made him strip before a whole arena of sickos, you expect me to believe that? Where is our friend? Where are you keeping him? Where is your leader?' the ashbrown badgered them with his questions.

Isabel looked like she wanted to speak more on the subject, but the redhead was nudged to silence by Farlan.

Armin found the whole thing suspicious.

'And who the hell are you people?' Jean asked.

They heard heavy footsteps saunter down a staircase. There was a silence as the Titans straightened up and looked at the door expectantly.

'The real question is—' spoke a new voice as a hooded figure emerged into the kitchen. '— who are you?'

The Masked Vigilante stepped up to the bar counter and stood there, his gaze moving sharply between their faces. He raised a gloved finger and traced a line between the three young men. 'Since you are the trespassers in _my_ territory, I ask the questions. So, tell me. Who are you and what are you doing here on my turf?'

He looked at Armin and before the blond could launch into the story, the masked man made a sound of disapproval, dismissing him.

'Not you, pipsqueak. You have a squeaky voice.'

Armin looked at the man indignantly.

'Wait. _What?_ '

The man turned next to Jean and studied him in the ill silence. Jean glared back at the masked man.

'Not you either. I don't like your face,' said the Vigilante.

It took all the strength in Armin to hold Jean back from leaping across the counter and pouncing on the man.

The Masked Vigilante finally turned to Marco.

'You seem alright. Go ahead. Tell me all.'

 

 

 

Annie stood by the window, playing with the blinds. She pulled the thread and watched the blinds ravel and unravel, the patterns mesmerizing to observe. Bertolt's window had a good view of the west wing entrance. She watched the road and observed an ambulance pull over. Soon enough, the corridor of the psychiatric department lit up. She heard frantic voices go up in the air, the sound of wheels, and Annie noticed people rushing down corridors. There was the screech of a stretcher, all heading to perhaps that one room at the end of the hallway.

She heard Bertolt wheeze from the bed. She heard his struggle as he reached for the bedside lamp and switched on the yellow light.

'Annie?' he called in surprise, recognizing her outline against the window. 'That you? You're not supposed to be here.'

Annie forced a small smile but didn't look at him. Her blue eyes remained on the ambulance outside.

'I wanted to see you,' she admitted.

She heard him cough in reply.

'Annie...' he called to her in a pained voice.

She didn't go to him. She was afraid he'd figure out what she had done. Bertolt was awfully intuitive.

'You did something... didn't you?'

Annie shook her head and forced a smile. As she thought.

'I didn't kill anyone, Bertolt. Like I promised.'

The tall man on the bed watched her in the silence. He was scrawnier than he had ever been, and the chemotherapy had taken what little life was left in him. His hair was thin and his complexion jaundiced. But Bertolt Hoover was still a strong man. Stronger in conscience.

'I can only hope to God that you're telling the truth this time.'

Annie smiled, her tired eyes surveying the entrance to the hospital. And there it was. The stretcher being pushed out through the doors of the psychiatric ward. They had found her finally. The paramedics were trying to revive the comatose woman strapped to the stretcher. Annie Leonhart forced herself to look away. She turned to the man on the bed.

'I love you, Bertolt. _Das ist die reine Wahrheit._ And that's all that is important.'

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Das ist die reine Wahrheit.   
> That is the absolute truth.


	54. Radioactive Sun

 

 

 Chapter-54- Radioactive Sun

~.~

 

The passage to his memories was empty. Not like the last time he'd been here. He had company back then, the company of a man, who never divulged his own secrets, but pried Eren’s open without a second thought. If that hadn't been bad enough, his guardian had gone on and sold those secrets to the highest bidder. For a moment, Eren could hear the auctioneer’s voice, the gavel hammering in his ears. _Going once, going twice— Thump! Thump! Thud!_

There were no longer twelve doors to the psyche corridor. Eren’s gaze swept the length of the passage, and if he counted right, there seemed to be sixteen now. The boy didn’t venture to find out what was behind those new doors. He had a clue, and he guessed the four doors represented moments better left alone. Sixteen doors to a blue green world; sixteen doors to his foolish heart. To say the truth, to be brutally honest with himself, Eren Jaeger was done living in the past. Life was meant to be lived forwards, not backwards, he decided.

The maturity behind that thought surprised the young peacekeeper.

Eren sat down against the wall of the subconscious corridor, immersing himself into the quiet. The lights overhead flickered like special effects in some ghostly motel movie. He half expected a woman with raven hair and sunken face to come crawling around the bend, clicking her tongue and hissing his name with a spooky vengeance.

He gulped, having remembered watching The Conjuring at Mardis Theatre. Thinking about horror movies brought Jean to his mind, and Eren began to miss their time as partners. He missed their arguments, their debates, the pranks, especially those nights they spent keeping vigil for the gateways, watching each other’s back. Eren missed the simplicity of those moments, their clandestine clarity and their lack of baggage; he missed his mom too, his friends, and he missed that one man whose name was beginning to fade from his lips already.  He said the name aloud. Once, twice, thrice... just to remind himself that at least he had the liberty to call out for that guy. Whether the man heard it or not. Yes, even if he didn’t want Eren calling out for him.

The brown-haired keeper squatted on the floor of the psyche corridor, head huddled between his arms. He was wearing the same old tee as last time. A crinkled, black t-shirt with a skull logo that depicted one of the most famous rock bands in history. Levi had never understood Eren’s fascination for rock and heavy metal.

_You call this music? It makes ears bleed, Eren._

Eren would only laugh as he returned the headphones to his ears, letting November Rain belt out. He would be sitting against the couch, swaying his head to the drumbeats.

 _You'll never understand the depth of it. This is soul_ , he'd reply.

 _Garbage,_ came the counter argument. But despite those words, Levi wouldn’t judge him.

 _No,_ Eren bit his lip. No more looking back into the past, he reminded himself. _Gotta move forward, gotta move forward one step at a time._

There was a peace here. A fragile peace which could be a mere illusion. And if he dug deeper, there was loneliness too. A bucket load of loneliness.

And that’s when he heard it. The click-clack of boots across the floor of the empty corridor. The sound came from around the bend, where shadows lingered, playing him the fool. The footsteps were slow and steady, no briskness to them, no motives.

Eren sat up, watchful and alert.

'Who's there?' he called out.

It was a funny question.

Who the heck could it be?

No one was supposed to be dwelling in his subconscious but himself.

The footsteps halted, but no one emerged from around the bend. Eren could just make out the faint outline of someone standing in the greyness, a noir like entity watching him.

'Levi?' he asked, wondering if it was a fragment of the past.

There was no answer from them.

Without a word, the figure turned around and walked away, deserting him.

Eren scrambled to his feet, getting up and hurrying after the shadow.

'Hey!’ he called out. ‘Will you stop?'

But the passage grew dark and swallowed the stranger whole. There was the click-clack of boots again. A door opened at the end, and the figure appeared briefly into the light, slipping past the door and leaving Eren alone in the greyscale corridor of his memories.

Eren didn’t stop chasing. He pursued the figure, arriving at the door and reached for the knob. His hand caught the brass, giving it a violent frisk. It gave with a click and swung backwards without putting up any resistance. The outside world flooded the hallway in light, blinding him for a moment. Wincing, the brunet ducked his head and walked out into the light. Consciousness washed over him. It was like emerging out of a bathtub, albeit to a different world.

Eren found himself lying on a spring bed, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling.

 

 

 

The name of the inn was 'Chromium Shark' as per the insignia embellished on the coasters, the glasses, the cutlery and even the apron of the redhead Isabel Magnolia. A silver shark with its head popped up as if it were a tin canister. For an arid land, which did not have oceans as on Earth, the Titans were uncannily obsessed with creatures of the deep. Hammerhead sharks, eels, crabs, tortoises, and Armin didn't know what other horrid species these Titans took for pets or for dinner. It seemed as if the Titans yearned for things they couldn’t have. Marco had told them in passing that the cargo of his aunt would fetch millions since the creatures had been bred in captivity. Sometimes, they were even captured from Earth and smuggled in by scavenger bots. Everything that was branded to be Earth's had a hefty price tag. Even humans. Yes, _especially_ humans.

Armin could vouch for that personally.

He and Eren had found that out the hard way.

They were still sitting in the dining hall, listening to Marco narrate the highlights of their journey. The _creepface_ sitting across from them was surprisingly patient and never interrupted Marco’s story. Armin didn't have a better name for that guy. He was caught between calling him Masked Dude, creepface, inkface, Mr. Vigilante and decided to go with _creepface_ for the moment. Because when Marco paused to take a sip of water, the other man had turned to the rest of them. His face with the sordid inkblot pattern gave Armin the heebie-jeebies. But Armin had a strange feeling that the masked dude was not even looking at him. His intuition suspected that the faceless stranger was instead studying Jean. There was something between the two; Armin couldn't put a finger on what it was.

Armin Arlert would have applied his brain to the mystery, but his stomach interrupted, rumbling loud. A rumble which didn’t go unnoticed by the taller man sitting next to him. Jean gave Armin a sidelong glance before reaching into the pockets of his parka (he had discarded the cloak, finding the rouse for a disguise in this new shelter unnecessary) and took something out of his jacket.

He caught Armin's hand and tucked something between the boy's fingers.

Armin opened his palm, half expecting a wad of used chewing gum on it. (He would expect nothing less from Jean Kirstein, the prankster.) But instead, Armin found four sugar cubes.

The blue-eyed boy looked up at Jean, mildly startled.

Jean shrugged.

'You're hungry, right? Eat up. That's the only thing I've got on me.'

Armin popped a sugar cube into his mouth and nodded in gratitude. A smile slipped him.

'I get it now,' the blond said wryly.

Jean arched one eyebrow up.

'Hm?'

'Why that Llama was crushing on you so bad!'

Jean looked flustered for a moment and flicking Armin's head, asked the boy to shut up.

Armin smiled.

'We're onto you, jerk. Your secret is out. Deep down, you're a... nice guy, aren't you? Why don’t you just drop the act and admit it!'

Jean said nothing and looked at the crusted bandages on his left hand. He remembered a storeroom conversation, the warmth of holding someone between his arms, the scent of that someone’s sweat and skin, and he remembered being admonished by the kamikaze idiot. And how the same kamikaze idiot had tended to his scalded fingers, treating him gentle.

Jean let out a bitter smile. 'Wow, I'm glad someone noticed.'

Armin crunched on his sugar cube and grimaced at the sweetness in his mouth. Pulling a face, he gave Jean a long look. The ashbrown was fiddling with his bandages, growing restless.

'You're worried about Eren, aren't you?’ Armin asked. ‘Hey, that's my job, you know. Looking after that idiot. But I guess I suck at it.'

Jean chuckled and gave a nod.

'Considering what a suicidal bastard he is, he needs all the watching over he can get.'

Armin agreed in muted silence. He took a deep breath and shuffled his feet, pulling at the drawstring of his hoodie. He'd been thinking the whole of last night about what had transpired in the slave house. He remembered the chanting, the jeers and the mocking laughter. But he didn't know how Eren had handled it all. Because the only person who'd been witness to the madness was the ashbrown sitting next to him.

Armin cleared his throat. He couldn’t run away from this; he needed to know.

'Hey Jean,’ he called.

‘Yeah?’

‘Tell me something. What happened back there at the slave house? Was it... that bad?'

Jean went painfully quiet. The hazel eyed keeper was sitting with his chin perched on one hand. He mulled over the answer and when Jean Kirstein spoke, there was a surprising candidness to his words.

'You know, I wasn’t that close to him before. But from what I know of Eren, he's never seemed the kind of guy who'd be afraid of anything. Isn't that right, shortie?'

Armin gave a small nod in acknowledgement.

'Yep. I remember him dragging me out to a survival training in the woods. Back when we were sixteen, I dunno... No matter how ridiculous things got, he wouldn't give up. No water? He'd go find a stream. No food? He'd go hunt for a bird's nest. We even heard this wild boar one night, and he still wouldn't budge from his sleeping bag.'

Jean smiled.

'Oh yeah, good times. I was that boar.'

There was a long pause as Armin let that statement sink in.

'Wait a minute,' Armin stirred from his roost. ' That was _you_? Jesus Christ! You serious? I almost wet my pants, you jerk. I didn't sleep the whole night thinking it was the real deal and any moment, a boar would come gatecrashing onto our camp and maul us to death.'

Jean laughed, eyes twinkling, looking none too remorseful about it.

'Uh... sorry?'

Armin's shoulders slumped, and he shook his head in resentment. 'You're not sorry at all, are you?' the blond murmured. He gave a sigh and returned to the subject of their conversation. 'But that's the whole thing. I've known Eren since forever. He’s been an idiot forever too, always getting into fights that he could never win. He would lose, get his arse kicked, but he's never been afraid of anything.'

Jean was looking at his bandages again, his features oddly soft and contemplative.

'I know, Armin. That's what I thought. But last night, I saw it in his eyes— Fear. Never seen him like that before,' Jean paused, looking troubled as a crease formed between his brow. He lowered his voice so that their hosts wouldn't hear them. 'I don't think it was a good idea to come to Titan,' Jean told him. 'I don't trust these guys. We should go back to our world the first chance we get.'

'Our world, huh?' Armin echoed, reaching into the pockets of his cagoule jacket and checked if he still had the key. What had Eren called it? Oh yes, the _universal_ gate key. Something that could open any gateway to Earth. And this treasured object of the cosmos was now sitting in Armin's pocket with something lesser in value but more in sentiment— Eren's wedding ring. Armin Arlert may be a crappy friend who couldn't save anyone, but the saint deemed himself to be a good keeper.

His stomach gave a rumble again. Loud enough for Marco's narration to be interrupted. Everyone's attention drifted towards him. Armin clutched his middle, his ears going red.

'Sorry, my bad?' Armin squeaked in embarrassment.

The woman who’d introduced herself as Isabel Magnolia gave a chuckle.

She came to the forefront and sighed. 'Don't be. You guys must be hungry. Sorry for not noticing earlier.'

She turned and nudged the man next to her, the one with the dreadlocks. She took off her apron and held it out. 'Magnum, our guests are hungry. Whip us something please. You feel up to making your specialty— the avocado and cillaneso pasta?'

Magnum threw her a dirty look but accepted the apron like a henpecked husband.

'Anything else, _milady_?' he asked with sarcasm.

'Yes, and some iced tea for me.'

Isabel missed the glare he sent her way.

The Masked Vigilante did not remark on their conversation, though his attention remained fixed on the guests. He made a motion with his fingers asking Marco Bott to continue the tale.

The freckled Titan cleared his throat.

'So, as I was saying, we are looking for a person. His name—'

Marco was interrupted since there was a loud crash that rattled the entire inn. Everyone stilled in their places for the sound had come from upstairs.

'Wh— What in the world was that?' Isabel gasped, her gaze streaking between the masked man and the ceiling.

'A bomb?' Hunter quipped as he emerged through the back door, covered in mud. His one hand immediately went for the gun in his holster. ‘That sounded awful like a meteorite crash, Captain.’

Farlan, the rebel leader, shook his head. 'No. More like something was thrown on the floor,' he observed, looking up at the ceiling in quiet wonder.

There was a scoff.  Armin watched the masked man lift the tea cup in his hands. He held it by the rim and peeled the mask to his nose. There was something strapped to his mouth— a contraption, and he pulled it away long enough to drain his cup before pulling his mask back down. There was a sharp intake of breath before the man spoke.

'That, people, is the sound of the _beast_ waking up,’ he announced to their benefit. ‘Time to check on him.'

The residents of Chromium Shark watched on dumbstruck as the masked man rose from his seat and headed for the stairs.

 

 

 

 

Something heavy struck against the door, the resulting thud reverberated through the whole inn, shaking its foundations and pillars of support. The tremors grew louder as they climbed up the stairs, reached the first landing and drew closer to the locked room, Isabel following anxiously at Levi's heels.

They arrived at the door and for a misguided moment, there was a silence on the other side.

Levi indicated to Isabel to step back.

'Why?' she asked suspiciously.

Sighing and giving her no time to argue, Levi placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled the pregnant woman behind him.

'Kid's got a radioactive temper, Izzie,’ he told her in a low voice. ‘Trust me on this. Stay back, and don’t enter the room until he simmers down.’

'Radioactive? What do you mean he’s got a—?'

She wasn't afforded the time to complete her question for Levi had grabbed the knob, unlocked it and kicked the door open. Bracing himself, he stepped aside, pulling her with him. And Isabel Magnolia soon understood what the term ‘radioactive’ meant.

_Crash!_

As soon as the door opened, a vase was hurled out, slamming into the wall behind them. It broke with an ear-deafening crash and sprinkled the hallway in colored porcelain and china. The sound didn't just deafen Isabel, it shuddered right through her. The innkeeper gave a cry of anguish when she eyed the ruins on the floor, recognizing the remains.

'Good Goddess of Titania!’ she gasped. ‘I had that vase imported all the way from Monroe! MONROE!'

Levi grunted in answer, clearly unmoved by her loss.

Another object came flying out of the room. A jug this time. There was a splash, and the first landing of Chromium Shark was doused in water and a rain of glass shards.

' _Stop_ that,' Levi warned the cretin inside and pulling Isabel to safety, he entered the room.  The bedroom was shrouded in darkness, a fluorescent light sputtered, surging with sparks. The curtains were pulled in. Levi slammed the door behind him shut, leaving Isabel stranded outside; he took two more steps in, allowing the darkness to swallow him whole. His eyes adjusted to the pitch blackness, roving through the shapes until he could see the faint outline of someone sitting cross-legged on a metal chair. As if waiting for him.

Eren Jaeger.

When the tube light gave another set of sparks, the face was illuminated for a brief second.

Eren's beautiful eyes were narrowed, and they carried a dangerous glint in them, screaming violence and vengeance at him.

Levi gauged the younger carefully, walking a half circle around him. The tube light gave another burst of sparks, allowing him to read more of Eren. 

Still naked save for the pair of boxers he wore. There was no hint of embarrassment about his state of undress either. Muscles and veins were straining against his flushed skin, as Eren limbered up his shoulders, readying himself for a fight. Odd enough, the boy’s rage was a welcome sign, a sign of vigor and health. Levi imagined what was going through the brat’s head. Waking up in a strange place was hardly comforting. Especially after a slave auction. No doubt, the young keeper had jumped to the wrong conclusion.

'You called, Your Highness?' Levi asked him, tilting his head in mock politeness.

The boy didn't answer and when the tube light sparked again, Levi saw the pursed lips part, struggling to keep his temper in.

In his moments of rage and no preamble-but-fight, Eren was someone who spoke very few words. He cursed, he bellowed, and he always launched into a full-frontal attack. This time being no exception. Levi watched as the brunet darted out of his seat, grabbed hold of one leg of the metal chair and raised it over his head. Panting, he held it poised high, fury burning holes in his gaze.

Levi almost smiled at the irony.

A razor-blade.

A baseball-bat.

And now a chair.

The brat didn't need guns or a sword. All he needed was that beastly spirit of his. And household furniture.

'Oh, you want a fight, _virgin_?' Levi taunted him, flexing his gloved fingers. 'Come at me!’ he provoked.

As always, Eren fell for the bait. The brunet bared his teeth and came barreling straight for him.

 

 

 

_In what distant deeps or skies_

_Burnt the fire of thine eyes?_

_On what wings dare he aspire?_

_What the hand dare seize the fire?_

 

The Tyger, William Blake

 

 

 

Eren wasn't sure what ticked him off more.

The fact that the jerk had the audacity to kidnap him.

Or the fact that his opponent was wearing his hero's mask and that... _oh God_ , that _cravat._

Eren stood with his fists raised and chest heaving. His brown hair was messy, his back sweat-drenched; Eren’s face was red from exhaustion; and his fingers were clenched tight, nails digging into the flesh of his palms. He had hurled the chair at the impostor, but the man had sidestepped the missile much too easily, letting it crash to the floor. Eren relented that the deviant was unusually quick on his feet. Agile with crazy reflexes just like... just like someone _else_ he knew. Eren frowned at the thought. No, no, this wasn’t Levi, it could never be him. Even if they both wore that stupid cravat around their neck.

The metal chair lay mangled in a corner of the bedroom. The man had managed to walk past him and force the curtains apart, letting the light of Titan's dwarf sun trickle through the windows. Eren's eyes hurt a little at the brightness. It didn't help that the man was obviously smiling behind that mask of his. The creep was circling Eren again, his steps slow and languid, like a predator measuring its prey, trying to predict its next move, trying to gauge its strengths and weaknesses. Eren could hear the mirth in his voice. An unfamiliar voice—deep, hoarse and sometimes gargled. No, this wasn’t Levi, he reminded himself. For there was the height which didn't match.

The masked man was as tall as Eren. And he seemed buffer.

No, it’s not him, Eren discerned.

Levi would never make a mockery out of him this way.

No, this masked guy was just another slave-driver who'd bought him off at an auction. Another person who had put a price on Eren’s head. Another alien who saw Eren as an outcast to this world and valued him for being just that. Some exotic creature to be treated like chattel. This could never be Levi... could never be that husband of his who believed in the core of humanity, who’d held Eren together when the teenager’s life had been down in the dumps.

Eren vowed to make this guy pay.

The brunet drew his right arm back and launched into a whirl of blows.

Again, the man in the trench coat ducked, side-stepped and bowed, evading every single hit.

Eren made another savage swing with his left.

The creep dodged it.

Eren let out a guttural groan.

'Why aren't you fighting back?' he demanded, huffing as he pulled back. He was already feeling spent, the migraine in his head threatening to split his skull open. Dismayed, Eren realised that he was getting sapped of energy. He couldn't keep up this pace especially when the other man was not even retaliating. Like a child... The prick was treating him like a child, and it was aggravating to the core.

'Come on, asshole!' Eren urged, screaming at him. 'Hit me with what you've got! Or are you afraid of _damaging_ your _merchandise_ , you lowlife?'

The pattern of the ink blot changed, the dots swirling. Eren winced as the man rushed forward, caught his right arm and rammed Eren up against the wall. Holding Eren off with an elbow pinned to his naked chest, the masked man caught Eren's right hand and dragged it forward. And all the man did in the next few minutes was study that right arm of his.

Eren gawked in surprise.

'Hey!’ he yelped. ‘Let me go!'

'Hm,' came the stranger’s voice but gave no explanation.

Eren winced, squirming under the scrutiny.

'Let me go!' he urged again, comprehending just how close the inkblot face was to his. It was the first time he realized how his essential nakedness was not helping him in this power play. 'Hey, what’re you doing?' he prodded indignantly.

The man continued studying his right arm and showed no intention of releasing him. Eren watched as a gloved hand traced his skin, sketching the muscles and the sinews of his arm, going over the elbow, wrist to the tips of his fingers, flexing the digits, checking their dexterity. Eren clamped down on the shivers that threatened to emerge from the touch. There was nothing warm about the caress either. Overcome by his state of lassitude, Eren lost the fight in him and shivered as a thrill of terror raced down his spine. It felt like the caress went on for a thousand years.

'Let me go!' he demanded again, kicking at the man's feet. But the masked creep seemed to be in no hurry. Giving the brunet's right arm one last survey, he relinquished his hold on the young keeper. Eren had not expected the release to come this swift. He stumbled and groaned, collapsing on the floor in a heap. Eren seethed and rubbed at his scraped knees, to ease away the ache.

He sat there on the moth-eaten rug, breathless and still shaking. Eren kept his gaze on the rug and mustered what little bravado he had left.

'I will never be your slave,' he said into the silence. 'You hear me? NEVER!'

The masked man stood before him, the gaze of those invisible eyes locked on to the back of Eren's head.

Eren heard a small chuckle before he heard movement. The man knelt before him, and clasped Eren's chin between his fingers, the touch to Eren’s jaw absurdly gentle. But the feeling of good-will didn’t last long for the brown-haired keeper felt a palm on his crotch next. Eren stiffened, eyes blown wide, the implication clear.

'On the contrary,' the stranger spoke in a soft whisper. 'I own you— body and soul. Vice versa.'

Eren was more troubled by that groping hand.

'You want your hand back, you bastard?’ Eren growled at him. ‘You better take it off me right now!'

There was a flicker of an amused laugh, but the man conceded to his threat. Eren was relieved though the creep remained hovering before him illicitly. The boy's breath turned uneven, his voice scratchy.

'Who the hell _are_ you?' Eren finally asked, dipping his head to avoid the man’s gaze. 

The hand on his chin tilted Eren’s face sideways so that the pervert could lean in and whisper the answer into the shell of his ear.

'Who am I? Well, that depends on what you _want_ me to be.’

Eren sat frozen in his place, drawing his head back stiffly.

‘What's that supposed to mean?’ he mumbled.

He shouldn’t have asked. The masked man hummed pleasantly into his ear while a gloved hand found one of Eren's nipples and teased it with a flick of the finger.

Eren twisted violently, growling at the suddenness of the assault, but the man held him pinned to the wall.

‘I have many names. Some call me Vigilante. Others call me Captain. But you can call me... Shark,' the voice was now low and husky against his earlobe.

There was a pause. Eren could have sworn that he heard the man snicker. When the inkblot face resumed, the voice dropped even lower.

'I guess that makes you... _sharkbait_ , hm?'

 

* * *

 

 

 


	55. Storm Brews

 

Chapter-55- Storm Brews

~.~

 

Eren gave the man a look of complete loathing. The brunet's disgust transformed into a full-fledged glare when gloved fingers grew bolder. And the hand began to trace the outline of his torso and trailed down to curl over his bare hip. Eren squeezed his eyes shut, trying to compose himself. It wasn’t in his nature to be passive, but _dammit,_ that was his tickle spot, and he fought hard to stifle the laughter that was on the verge of breaking out from his lips. No, he couldn't laugh at a time like this. It would dispel the tension between them; tension that he’d worked so hard to create, and which threatened to come undone by the man’s ministrations. God, he was so wrecked.

Agile hands changed maneuvers, arms drawing around his waist and began pressing into the small of his back. A head came to rest on his shoulder, coaxing him to relax.

And Eren felt the tension break eventually, like the pop of a balloon. The knot in his shoulders eased, and he slumped into waiting arms.

Admittedly, the whole idea of a confrontation had been his. And Eren had expected a fair fight in return: a punch, a kick, a duel to the death… just, not _this_.

_He is trying to get to you, Eren. It's some sort of a psychological tactic to put your guard down. Don't fall for it. Don't you dare fall for it!_

'Feeling better?' the soft voice in his ear drawled, trying to engage him in a conversation again.

Eren pressed his eyes shut and bit the inside of his cheek.  

_No. Stay calm. Don't give in._

'What's wrong?' the masked man hissed, rising to his feet and yanking Eren up as well. There was that hand on his right arm again, gloved fingers pressing into his wrist, drawing circles, wheedling him to unwind. 'You don't like this, huh? I could have sworn that you were the sort who liked being manhandled.'

Eren clenched his teeth. He opened his eyes and snarled at the man in the trench coat.

'You kiddin' me? Who the hell would like _this_? This is harassment!'

There was a small, begrudging laugh, and the man leaned in, pushing Eren against the wall. They spent a long moment in such close quarters, studying each other in the silence: face to shroud, shoulder to shoulder. Somewhere in the house, there was the sound of high pitched laughter and conversations. Who were these people? Why was he being kept here? Though, he didn’t feel much like a hostage. From the window, Eren could hear the movement of vehicles and people, and he wondered where exactly he was. But he couldn't dwell on those questions. Because there was the creep, hovering before him and watching Eren intently through his shrouded face.

'Strange,' the masked man remarked. 'I thought you earthlings had a kink for comic heroes.'

Eren looked away, mouth going dry, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, and he forced it to stay there.

'Yeah, right. You know _nothing_ about me,' Eren told him. 'Nor anything about the world I come from.'

There was amusement in the voice that answered.

'We can fix that. We have all the time to get to know each other,' the stranger said, placing his hands on the wall, with the palms spread against the surface. Eren drew back with a hiss, surprised again. The masked man had effectively trapped him into the cocoon of his arms. Moments ago, Eren had been the one calling the shots but now, it seemed the other way around. He gulped inwardly.

'Look,' said Eren, clamoring to get out of the huddle of limbs. The young keeper struggled to keep the nervousness from his voice. 'Look, dude. Sorry, but yeah. You got the short end of a deal, okay? And I'm sorry.' – No, the truth was Eren wasn't sorry at all— 'Because I lied, alright… I'm not a virgin. You got hoodwinked, you got conned out of your good money. I’m _really_ not a virgin, trust me on that. Can you let me go?'

There was a pause as the man mulled over this honest declaration but didn’t try to gainsay it.

' _Really_?' asked the derisive voice. ‘You’re not a virgin?’

'Yes. In fact, I'm uh—' Eren coughed, his voice sounding muffled from embarrassment. 'I'm married.'

There was a pause.

If Eren Jaeger had been hoping for it to be a ground-breaking revelation, and that the masked creep would release him at the mention of his marital status, he was wrong. Dead wrong.

'So?' the masked man countered, leaning in. ‘So, _what_?’

Eren froze at the insinuation, his breath hissing out between his pale, cracked lips.

Thankfully, there was a knock on the door, and a woman's voice rang out from the other side.

'Captain, I think that's enough of _intimidating_ the prisoner. I'm sure he's learnt his lesson. Let the poor kid have some food first.'

There was a moment of heavy silence as the man thought it over. The 'Captain'— which was the name he seemed to answer to— looked at the door and finally turned his inkblot face to Eren. The arms around Eren withdrew, letting Eren breathe easy after what seemed like ages.

The masked man regarded him coolly. 

'I'm letting you off the hook for now. But next time, you go around damaging this establishment, nothing will save you. You understand?'

Eren didn’t answer him outright, until a gloved hand reached out, engulfed Eren's throat and forced his chin up.

'Do you understand?'

Eren gave a curt nod this time.

'Good,' the masked man decided.

The peacekeeper breathed a sigh of relief when the man relinquished his hold on Eren and left him. The ‘Captain’ moved to the door, unlocked it and let the stranger in. The newcomer was a woman with wavy red hair plaited across one shoulder; she was also expecting a baby, her cheerfulness reflected in her demeanor— sunny and open, a complete contrast to the masked man standing beside her. She trudged across the room with difficulty, looking suspiciously between the two of them. Introducing herself as Isabel Magnolia, the innkeeper— the woman searched the messy bedroom for a place to set the food tray. She cast an exasperated glance at the bedside table, which was toppled over. And then, at the mangled remains of a chair. 

'Good God,' she sighed wearily. 'That was from Monroe too!' she complained, giving her leader a disgruntled look.

The 'Captain' didn't say anything in his or Eren’s defense.

Shaking her head, the woman finally found a decent spot on the bed and placed the tray on the covers.

She turned to Eren and looked him over from head to toe, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She pointed Eren's attention to the tray.

'That's my _amante_ 's special. It's delicious, mark my words,' she told Eren. 'You're hungry, aren't you? You slept for ten hours straight. I’d be raving mad too on an empty stomach.'

Eren frowned, looking in distaste at the plate. He felt a surge of that old anger again.

'I didn’t ask for food,’ he said churlishly, wringing his hands in his lap. ‘I don’t need any of your hospitality... You can take it back!’

The woman placed her palms on her hips and made a tut of disapproval. She turned in exasperation from Eren to the 'Captain' and gave the man a look. There was some unspoken understanding that passed between them. Some sort of a sign language which Eren couldn't decipher.

The masked man shrugged in indifference.

'Heh. He's right. Take it back, Izzie. We don’t have the luxury to spoon-feed him. There are thousands dying in Maria without a square meal. Some so hungry they even dream about a morsel of food,' the man's voice hardened as his gaze fell on Eren and studied him. 'If he can't be _grateful_ for what he gets, let the kid starve to death.'

'Come now,  _hermano_ —' Isabel tried to reason with the leader.

The masked man's stare did not waver from Eren.

'Before trying to be noble and all, you should know I have your friends locked up in the dungeons below.’

Eren's blue green eyes widened at the mention of the other guys.

‘My friends? They’re here?’

The masked man nodded firmly.

‘If you don't need food, I'm sure your friends would like to be meted out the same treatment. That would be fair, correct?'

Eren opened his mouth to argue, but he didn't quite have a sound argument to give. Eren clamped up, seething under his breath, and reconsidered the food, remembering his friends. No, he didn't want the guys to suffer on his account. Sitting down on the bed, the brunet ceded defeat and pulled the plate towards him. The masked man watched Eren for a long moment and said nothing more. He left the room eventually, leaving Eren in the care of the innkeeper. 

 

 

 

 

There was a bowl of 'Gazpacho' soup along with a plate of some strange wriggly looking pasta in a creamy sauce. What had the lady called it? Cilasseno? The aroma was alluring enough, and despite his initial complaints, his stomach rumbled at the sight of food. He was indeed starving, but Eren's pride held him back. The redhead laid out a small rubber mat on the bed and arranged the plate and the bowl of soup before him. When she was done, she sat back and waited for him to begin eating. Isabel Magnolia watched him ardently the entire time, her glimmering green eyes searching his face. Eren was unnerved by this constant surveillance of strangers.

Eren looked down at the food and then, turned back to her.

'Look, I appreciate the gesture and all, but I really don’t feel like eating right now,' he protested weakly.

The redhead pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her belly.

'Really?' she asked, her miffed tone challenging him.

'Yeah. I need to see my pals first. I need to make sure they’re okay.'

Isabel Magnolia clicked her tongue.

'You can meet your friends later. Captain was playing with you. There are no dungeons here. Your friends are doing just fine, believe me,' she smiled at him. ‘Eat up, first. You do realise I’m a hormonal woman. And _guapo_ , word of advice, never argue with a woman in her third trimester.'

So, the dungeons were a rouse? Eren felt relieved to hear it, but he was still anxious about his friends; the boy looked dejectedly at the plate before him. Isabel's gaze softened as she watched him. There was something about this young man that tugged at her maternal instincts. He looked lost sometimes, turbulent and furious in other moments. It surprised her how bipolar this young man was. Of all the people, she'd have expected _hermano_ to settle for, this chaotic boy with a hunger pang frame was probably the last one she’d have picked. But the boy was handsome in his own rugged way. And with that realization of hers, there came a mischievous glint in her green eyes.

'Do you want me to call the Captain back? He’s better at _persuading_ than me.'

The words had the desired effect.

'No, I can eat,' Eren said quickly and reached for the fork before she could put the plan into action.

Isabel hummed in amusement as she watched the young man gorge down his food. And Eren found himself the subject of scrutiny... for the second time that day. He gave her a look askance.

'Is—Is there something on my face?'

Isabel knit her brows in puzzlement.

'No,' she said with a dimpled smile.

'Um. Why do you keep staring at me?'

Isabel gave a giggle.

'Oh, I'm just trying to figure out something.'

Eren looked at her warily.

'Figure out what?'

'What caught our Captain's eye.'

'Huh?'

'Nothing. Nothing at all,' she piped cheerily.

There was a strange silence. Eren was lost in thought as he slurped down the last of his Gazpacho soup. When he was done with his meal, he replaced the bowl and plate back on the tray in an orderly fashion, respecting his host's hospitality (even though he didn't trust them completely.) He caught Isabel still beaming at him in good humor. What was with this woman? It was as if there was some inside joke, and he was the butt of it.

Eren looked around the ruins of the bedroom.

'Do you work for that creep?’ he asked her.

‘Oh no, we’re old friends. Comrades in arms.’ 

Eren frowned. ‘Why does he wear that mask?' he asked, the question having been eating him away for sometime now. 

Isabel looked stumped for a small moment before she gathered her wits.

'The mask? OH, the _MASK!_ Right… right!' she said, her voice growing panicky. Her eyes darted around, as if fishing for a tale in the creature comforts of her inn. 'It was an oil tanker accident,' she finally confided, dragging out a handkerchief from her apron and dabbing it across her eyes. Eren heard her sniffle. 'It's a terrible story, a real tear-jerker. I hope you're ready for it,' the red head said, sniveling into her cloth. 'It makes me cry every time I think about it. The accident happened a long time ago. An oil tanker rammed straight into the Captain's home. He was living in this small hovel in the slum-houses. The explosion blew his family to bits. It was a gory mess— limbs, decapitated heads and blood everywhere,’ Isabel Magnolia pinched her nose as if remembering the scene. ‘But that night, the Captain survived. He and his small puppy escaped the harsh cruelty of fate. Though his face still carries those ugly scars from the accident. Even the best plastic surgeons of Sina said they had never seen anything worse. Dreadful, eh? And so, he's been wearing that mask for the past fifty years.'

Eren stared at her, befuddled.

'Fifty?' he repeated in shock. 'He's more than fifty years old?'

'Yes, _guapo_. He is an old man. A dirty, _dirty,_ perverted old man.'

Eren thought there was something wholly fishy about her explanation while Isabel marveled at her own story telling abilities.

The innkeeper coughed and tried to change the subject.

'So, enough about us… what brings _you_ to Maria?' she asked of the younger man. 'People don't exactly come here for a vacation, y'know. Especially people from Earth.'

Eren fidgeted, and his gaze shifted to the lit window, where the drapes hung loose around the frame.

'The truth is… I’m looking for someone.'

Isabel noticed his reluctance to talk about it.

'Someone, huh? Do they have a name?'

The young man didn’t reveal it.

Izzie sighed. 'I am sure there's a valid reason why you're here. It's fine if you don't want to tell me who you are or what you’re searching for. But can I make a suggestion?’

Eren looked at her, hopeful.

'Yes,' he said with a hesitant nod.

Isabel buried her hands into the pockets of her apron.

'Why don't you ask the Captain for help?'

Eren gawked at her.

'Ask that fucking creep?'

Isabel smiled wryly. 'He may be a creep, but to most of us here, he is like a Messiah. In the last two months, he's purged the drug routes, sent the sex traffickers into hiding and he's rescued so many of our people from being arraigned and detained by the Military Police. We had so much trouble with law and order before. But with him around, we can breathe easy. He pulled us all together, woke us up and taught us to stand up for ourselves. You must have seen how he handled things at Belial’s auction house. You can trust Captain.'

Eren scoffed.

'I don’t want to burst your bubble, lady, but your leader killed someone,' he spat out. ‘I was right there when it happened.’

Isabel’s face had a hard edge now.

'I do agree he can be a little violent at times…'

'A little?' Eren echoed in disbelief. 'Your captain choked a man to death, and he looked like he enjoyed it. He is a sadist, that's what he is.'

Isabel picked up the tray, no longer smiling. Her features showed a tinge of sadness now. ‘Someone has to do the dirty work. And no, he doesn't enjoy it. The Captain takes it all upon himself. And sometimes, he takes up too many burdens than he should.'

Eren watched her as she made to leave.

'My point is, guapo… he is Lord of this turf. If the person you're searching for has disappeared around 'ere, rest assured, the Captain will help you find this person…if you ask him nicely enough.'

'Ask him nicely?'

Isabel nodded.

'Yes. _Persuade_ him.'

'Persuade that dirty old man?' Eren repeated in distrust. 

Isabel sighed as she opened the door.

'Another word of advice, _guapo_. You better not call him that to his face.'

Eren scowled and watched her beckon him forward.

'I can leave this room now?' he asked in surprise.

Isabel Magnolia nodded at Eren brightly and held the door open for him... that is, until she noticed his state of undress.

She hesitated.

'But perhaps, I should get you some clothes first.'

 

 

 

There was a bad taste in Jean's mouth. And it wasn't from the soup. The food was delicious, to be honest. But it could do better. Maybe a bit of garlic and ginger. Some thyme. And cloves. Magnum said he'd never heard of those spices. But the man with the dreadlocks vouched they had something better. A Titan grown exotic plant called 'icuan' which might do the trick. Unfortunately, it was native to the floating plantations and couldn't be grown outside the bubble cities.

The bad taste in Jean's mouth was not from the food. It was from watching the other man conduct his business.

Marco, Armin and Jean were having lunch in the kitchen of Chromium Shark. From their spots at the bar counter, they had a good view of the stairwell leading to the inn's main corridor. It was the place where Hunter had escorted in a visitor. A frail, old woman who wouldn't stop speaking in a strange tongue. With her grey hair pulled under a hairnet and a frayed red shawl wrapped around her shoulders, she kept talking and pointed to the barcode on her wrist.

Hunter translated her words for the benefit of the Vigilante.

'She says the Military scumbags have taken her son. They've framed false charges and cooped him up in Utgard. There wasn't even a trial, Captain.'

The masked man remained silent before the Vigilante turned to Farlan, and they exchanged a glance.

'I can’t help her. Utgards falls out of my jurisdiction,' the masked man observed.

Hunter translated his words for the sake of the old woman. The elderly broke into sobs and caught the sleeve of the Masked Vigilante, on the verge of howling her heart out. She ranted in her language again, raising her fists in contempt, and Hunter struggled to pull her away.

'She says Canberras was her only son,' Hunter pleaded her case. 'The breadwinner of the house. He's done no harm to anyone. He was just caught with the wrong crowd. Or so she says.'

'The wrong crowd?' repeated the Vigilante in scorn. 'Well, I can't be held responsible for the moral lapses of people. He got what he deserved.'

'Captain,' said Farlan reprovingly by his side. 'Can't you reconsider?'

The masked man studied the old woman's face, and he wrenched himself free from her bony fingers. The Vigilante gave a deep sigh.

'Alright. Tell her that I have connections in Utgard. But for fuck’s sake, don't get her hopes up.'

Hunter beamed.

'O-Of course, Captain.'

The Vigilante watched as Hunter relayed the message to the old woman, translating it in her own language. Thus comforted, the old woman allowed herself to be led out.

The Titans of Chromium Shark returned to the kitchen, perhaps for their own lunch. Jean and Marco finished early, but Armin lingered at the counter. The saint was a little alarmed when Hunter and Farlan took their spots beside him. Jean and Marco, the outsiders, moved down the dining hall. And from here, they took stock of this new place. It was a strange atmosphere that they found themselves in. Deceivingly homely. This mix of Titans and Earthborns under a single roof. Except there was one person missing, and it was a huge, gaping absence.

Jean turned to the man responsible for it. The Vigilante sat at the dining table, watching his aides eat in a brooding silence, but didn’t partake himself.

Suddenly, there was the sound of feet trampling down the stairs, heavy footsteps racing towards them. Soon enough, a familiar face appeared at the door. Ocean eyes took in everything at once. Moving from Armin to Jean and Marco, the young man let out a sigh of relief. Eren was dressed in a maroon shirt and dark capris. His hair was disheveled, but he looked deceptively fine. There were no injuries, and Jean's partner didn't seem as if he'd been subjected to a torture camp. Eren was equally relieved to see them all.

'Thank God. You guys okay?' the brunet blurted out.

Armin was the first to react. He put down his fork before jumping over the bar stool and scooting over to Eren. The blond hugged his best friend tightly around the middle, almost squeezing the life out of him.

'Us? How the hell are _you_ , idiot?'

Eren grinned softly, patting his friend's head.

'I'm alright,' he admitted in the strained silence.

Marco walked over and gave Eren a one-armed hug.

‘You had us worried.’

Eren acknowledged him with a nod. 'Thanks for rescuing Armin, man.'

'No problem,' Marco replied with a smile. ‘Pleasure was all mine.’

Eren finally turned to Jean and smirked, his face lit up in mischief.

'You aren't going to say anything, horseface? What, cat got your tongue?'

Jean stared at the fellow peacekeeper, relief flooding him in waves. The ashbrown walked over and looked at Eren solemnly. He swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head.

'Nah,' he said, leaning in to press his lips against Eren's cheek. It was a gentle kiss, one that was supposed to signify gratitude and ease at the boy's return. Jean finally pulled back and ruffled Eren's hair, brushing them away from the idiot's messy forehead. 'Welcome back, you kamikaze,' Jean told him with a smile.

The room turned dreadfully silent as if hell itself had frozen over. There were no more sounds of cutlery, no more sounds of the oil sizzling on a frying pan or people murmuring between themselves. The Titans were staring at them.

Eren didn’t notice the drop in temperature. He nodded to his chums. 'I'm glad you guys got out fine. That pervert told me he put you three in the dungeons. For a second there, I actually believed him.'

A voice spoke up from the corner, announcing its presence.

'Pervert, huh?' echoed the Vigilante. 'Maybe I _should_ put you morons in the dungeons.'

 

 

 

 

Ask him nicely.

Persuade him.

Eren had a knack of starting out on the wrong foot. Nevertheless, Isabel Magnolia was right. This man could help him. If he was truly the godfather around here, a savior of the people of the subpars like she claimed he was, this guy— this stranger with his Rorschach face and horrible personality— would know how to help Eren Jaeger. The brunet reached into the pocket of his capri and drew the object out. Thanks to Isabel, he’d recovered his clothes and his sparse belongings from his backpack, this object being one of the things he'd brought over from his world. He strode over to the masked man and slid the Polaroid across the table.

'Look,’ Eren began guiltily at first. ‘I know we got off to the wrong start,' Eren broke off, a hint of regret appearing in his face. Of course, the fault lay on both sides, but Eren let it slide for the moment. He glanced at the masked face, his jaw set in determination. 'But I think you can help me.'

The Vigilante remained silent, his invisible eyes fixed on some spot on the wall behind Eren.

Eren launched into his request, undeterred.

He gestured to the Polaroid, to that old familiar picture of him and that other man.

'I am searching for this guy,’ Eren finally said, motioning towards the photograph. ‘Official records say he... died in a jet crash around Maria. But I don't believe it. I think he's alive. I _know_ he is.'

The masked man finally peered down at the picture, the inkblot pattern freezing in its shape and form. There was no response from the accursed face, but Eren persisted. 

'His name is Rivaille Levi. He's with the Titan Army, and he commanded a special ops squad in the PeaceCorps. He's my superior and...’ here, Eren’s face looked pained all of a sudden. ‘—and also my husband.'

The last part hadn't been easy to admit, especially in a room filled with strangers and friends. Eren had never put a name to their relationship, because words always fell short. But if he was going to be asking for help, he needed to voice it aloud.

'Can you help me find him?' Eren asked, turning to the inkblot face. 'Please?' he implored earnestly. 

The man said nothing. Instead, he took the Polaroid between his gloved fingers and studied the occupants of the picture.

'Help you?' the Captain echoed after a long-drawn silence. There was that voice again: heavy, hollow and devoid of emotion. There was an audible snort. 'In this world, nothing comes free, earthling. Everything is a business transaction of give and take.'

Eren couldn’t help but frown at this maxim. 

'What does that mean?' he demanded. 'You need something from me? Is that what you're implying?'

The masked face turned briefly to Eren's friends before returning to the peacekeeper. The man shrugged.

'Don't worry. I don't ask for much.'

Eren took a deep breath, wringing his hands and turning disillusioned at the way things were heading. A negotiation was the last thing he needed. And what could he even bargain with? 

'What is it that you want from me?’ Eren finally asked him, his voice embittered. ‘I'm afraid none of us have any money. My friends and I hitchhiked the whole way here.'

There was a base laugh from the masked man, who sat up in his seat, ink blots in his mask swirling in interest.

'Oh, I don't need your _money_ , kiddo. A lap dance would do. You have the time?'

Silence hung in the air like the last nail to a coffin. Someone even dropped a plate to the ground, cursing under their breath.

Eren stared at the mask, dumbfounded.

The Captain was watching him expectantly as if still waiting for an answer.

'So, how about it?' the man asked again. 

At Eren’s silence, the masked man nodded as if the boy’s refusal was a given. There was the crackle of paper; the masked creep had picked up the Polaroid and crumpled it into a ball. He tossed it at Eren, watching the crushed photograph bounce off the top of the brunet's head. He seemed to take a particular delight in the hurt that showed on Eren's face. 

'There's your answer, kid,' he said. 'I don't have time to be rescuing some dog of the State.'

Eren remained frozen in his spot as the chair skidded backwards, and the man in the trench coat ventured to leave. The brown-haired peacekeeper was rendered numb for a short while; he bent and grabbed the crumpled Polaroid from its pitiful spot on the floor. Eren flattened it out with shaking fingers, removing the creases from the picture... as if it were a treasured memento that he was having trouble holding on to. His shoulders were trembling again, blood boiling in his veins, vision blurring, and he grew dimly aware of Armin reaching his side and grabbing his wrist to lend him support.

'We'll find him on our own, Eren,' Armin tried to calm him. 'Sshh... Don't worry.'

But Eren wasn't going to let it slide this time.

'Hey,' he called to the creep, making the man halt at the doorway.

Eren looked at the Vigilante's back, fury reigning in his voice.

'Levi may have worked for the State... but he was a goddam hero to me. Not a coward who hides behind a mask like you do.'

There was a strained silence, and he heard the man chuckle.

'Maybe you didn't know him at all. People change.'

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guapo- handsome  
> hermano- brother  
> amante- lover 
> 
> On ages:  
> Eren (23), Jean (23), Armin (22), Marco (24)  
> Levi (34), Farlan (33), Magnum, Isabel, Hunter (28). (Earthen equivalents)


	56. Second Home

 

 

 

Chapter- 56- Second Home

~.~

 

 

There were cracks in the wall— the very same wall that he had been building around himself for days and months. It had happened once before, when he’d been sanctioned as a guardian to a juvenile delinquent, when the man called Rivaille Levi didn’t know any better and let his guard down foolishly. And déjà vu, it was happening again after all these years. The brat was skilled at it. Eren Jaeger, troublemaker extraordinaire, was a prodigy at flouting his rules. At breaking down defences, at breaking down the barriers between worlds and people. With his words, his sunshine smile and his unquenchable spirit that showed no signs of abating. Levi did not know which of those qualities was more fatal than the rest.

Was it the words from a lost time? He remembered an adolescent standing in the living room of #1263. Clutching his earlobes, the boy never once complained when Levi forced him to do squats as punishment. Ten times the boy went down, and ten times he came right back up, stronger and prouder than before. Even lessons of discipline could never curb Eren Jaeger’s enthusiasm for life.

 _I'm sorry that I care about you_ , the boy had said back then, his gaze fervent and unflinching. _But I don't think I can stop feeling this way._

Always honest, so painfully sincere. Was it this brutal honesty that fell the mighty guardian all those years ago?

_I'm sorry that I want to carry and protect you. Even if you don't want me to._

Or was it the smile that Levi could no longer claim to be his?

_I think he's alive... I **know** he is._

Perhaps it was the dedication.

Levi paused briefly and pressed a hand over his shrouded face. There were cracks in the wall and in this second face of his. And it was all Eren's fault.

He was accosted by Isabel Magnolia in the hallway. The innkeeper had seen all that had transpired in the dining area, and she didn't look one bit happy about it.

'What was that, _hermano_?' she whispered harshly, stepping before him and blocking his way to the inn’s exit. The redhead was in his personal space now, hands folded across her chest, her mouth pressed in a tight line. 'What in Nyse's name was that? The boy comes to you, asking for _help,_ and you ask for what? A lap dance? A LAP DANCE?' she swore, her keenness to nag rearing its ugly head. She put her hands up in air and groaned, as if still reeling from his rudeness to Eren. 'I've never heard a more insulting thing in my life! And I can’t imagine how hurt _he_ must be feeling.'

Levi ignored her rant and searched the pockets of his trench coat for the TJ's keys. He needed to leave, he needed to clear his mind. Away from the emotions running high in this wretched place.

The redhead puffed up.

'Are you listening, Captain?' Izzie demanded.

Levi shrugged, looking away from her.

'I'll be meeting Moloch at Pandemonium. I might be late. Tell Farlan I’m borrowing his vehicle.'

Isabel remained nonplussed and threw Levi a look of utter disdain. She dogged his every step. 'Screw Moloch. Don't think you can weasel out of this conversation, _hermano_. Moloch is not what we're talking about,' she gave the kitchen a worrisome glance before turning back to Levi. ‘We need to talk about Eren,' she whispered.

Levi turned his masked face to her.

'There is nothing to talk about, Izzie.'

Isabel Magnolia was, of course, a meddler by birth.

'Do you even realise what you did now, Captain?'

Levi grunted, his ire growing.

'I don't need my subordinates telling me how to act. Especially a fat cow like you.'

His biting remark cut through her, and Izzie looked outright ready to murder him now. 'Oh is that so?' she screeched. 'Now you've done it. If I'm a fat cow, you're a juggernaut wingtail. No, you’re even worse; you are an armadillo, Captain. Yes, sir, you _are_.'

Casting a worried look at the kitchen again and making sure they were out of earshot, she wagged a finger before his face and resumed speaking, keeping her voice low and caustic. 'A selfish, clean freak armadillo,' she emphasized each word, and pointed a thumb back at the dining room. 'Believe me, an armadillo who is going to live the rest of his life alone because you do not deserve that boy. Not one bit, Captain.'

The air was still and silent between them. He didn't ever remember Isabel rebuking him for his actions before.

An amused chuckle escaped his lips, his voice sounding alien even to himself.

'Whatever happened to the girl who used to hang to my coat tails saying, 'Brother this, brother that.''

Isabel narrowed her green eyes.

'And whatever happened to the _hermano_ who used to care for people deep down?’ she countered. ‘The guy who weighed his words before speaking. What have you done with him, Captain?'

Levi did not tarry this time. Instead, he forced his way past her, having decided that he wasn't going to contest any more of this debate.

Isabel sighed at his retreating form.

'Oh great. Run away,’ she taunted him. ‘I don't even know what you're trying to pull here. You obviously care about him. So _much_. I can see it in the way you look at him. And yet, you can't say one good word to his face. He’s come so far for you, _hermano_ ,’ Isabel turned quiet suddenly, simmering down. ‘Farlan is right. Are you trying to break him on purpose? Because if you are, bravo, you are succeeding, Captain.'

Levi stopped at the doors of Chromium Shark. He lingered there, his hand pressed to the knob.

'You're right, Izzie,' he said, without facing her. 'I want to break him. I want to crush him into the tiniest pieces I can. I'll do whatever it takes to make him forget. To cut his attachment towards that shitty husband of his. And to this world. Because he doesn't belong here, and he never will.'

Isabel Magnolia froze.

She stared at the masked man, finding herself short of words for the first time.

 

 

 

Magnum insisted on accompanying him to the meeting. His subordinate was becoming increasingly interested in shadowing him. Perhaps it was the intrigue and the thrill of subterfuge. Perhaps it was outright foolishness. Levi recognised the look in the man’s eyes: a predilection to becoming a martyr, the keenness to prove his worth. Both were dangerous qualities to have in one’s men. And these qualities were the reasons why subpar groomed better rebel soldiers than the State ever could. But tell that to Zachlay. The State would never regard these men as equals; no, Lady Justice kept a jaundiced eye when it came to her own flesh and blood.

‘I told you to keep out of trouble, Magnum,’ Levi muttered, as he keyed in the coordinates.

Magnum took the seat beside him in the TJ, letting the glass to the cockpit auto-close.

‘Aye, sir. But that doesn’t mean I can’t look out for you. Izzie will have my head if anything were to happen to you while you’re out. You need someone to watch your back, and I’m your man for the job.’

The Vigilante made a skeptic sound.

‘I’m not the one who needs looking out for. Besides... I’m not the one who’s going to be a daddy soon. Was this really a good time to knock her up, you moron?’

Magnum merely grinned.

‘Ah, if there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s never a good time, Captain. Besides, the rubber seemed to disagree.’

The masked face met Magnum’s, and Levi shook his head in disbelief.

‘And so, you decided to keep the baby.’

Magnum’s grin did not falter.

‘Yes, sir. We did. Not gonna regret any moment of it.’

Isabel’s _amante_ gave Chromium Shark a furtive glance.

‘Captain, I know it’s not my place to ask this. But is it alright to leave things as they are?’ he began, giving the man beside him a wary look. ‘With the Earthborn and all. I don’t know the whole story, but—’

Levi let the engine thrum to life, drowning out the rest of Magnum’s simpering explanations.

His reply was a scathing one.

'Magnum?'

'Sir?'

‘Does nosiness run in the entire family?’

The man with the dreadlocks recognized the dig at him and turned apologetic.

‘Sorry, Cap.’

Levi grunted.

‘Good. Know your station, Magnum. And stick to it.’

 

 

 

 

They returned to their room in Chromium Shark, a room with two bunk beds where Marco and Armin had slept like a log last night while Jean had been delegated the hardships of the floor (which Jean’s protesting vertebrae could attest to). Tonight, though, he wouldn't be sleeping on the cold, hard floor. Because, tonight, they would be free of this wretched inn and its masked sentinel. Yep. Hasta la vista, sayonara, buh bye, muttered Jean as he packed his things.

'And tonight, you will have your crush by your _side_ ,' yodelled the demon inside his head. ‘All to yourself.’

Mephistopheles was of course back inside Jean Kirstein's head and wouldn’t quit yapping about it.

Jean let out a growl, admonishing his inner voice.

 _Jesus Christ, I’m not thinking about stuff like that,_ the ashbrown thought furiously while stuffing his cloak into a satchel bag.

'Lies, you _are_ thinking it. I submit this conversation as incriminating evidence of your sin,' the demon conscience teased. 'Admit it, my little green monster; you haven't stopped thinking about your partner ever since you saw him naked at the slave auction. Oh, don't be a prude. I don't really blame you.'

 _Shut up_ , Jean hissed, growing distraught.

'Like I said, I don’t blame you, son. How can anyone resist the boy’s charms? Those glorious bareback shoulders, that hunted look in his eyes begging you to take him to bed, that unbridled passion, temerity, oh, mamma mia— that was a sight to behold!'

Jean jolted and sat up straight, going a little red in his ears.

_For the love of God, shut the hell up and get out of my head!_

Mephistopheles left, leaving behind his howls of laughter and a sure promise to return. His ears still flushed red, Jean returned to packing. The others didn't help him, and he didn't really understand why the asses were dragging their feet about it. Even Eren. No, scratch that.

 _Especially_ Eren.

Jean's partner-in-crime was leaning against the wall, looking out the window at the view outside, his one hand curled around the elbow. There was the landscape of Maria with its winding roads and dusty architecture, presenting a different picture of Titan than what they’d come to expect. There were no skyscrapers here, no state machinery. The subpar was a catacomb of small buildings, some in ruins while others had colourful banners hanging above their awnings. This was Maria, and this panorama before them was the story of its lost people— the suboptimals trying to make do with what little they had. The classic Marx battle of the 'have's and the 'have-not's.

Jean looked at Eren and studied the boy sharply.

'Pull yourself together, Eren,' Jean told him. 'It's time to leave. After the way he humiliated all of us, don't tell me you want to stick around.'

Armin cleared his throat from his comfy spot on the bed. The blond folded his hands in his lap, making a sound of agreement.

'Yeah, as much as I hate to agree with jerkface on anything... he’s right. We need to get out of here, Eren. We can go home too, y’know.'

The brunet didn't answer, but Jean noticed Eren’s right hand move, those tan fingers tightening around the Polaroid in his clasp.

Jean sighed, turning resentful at the sight of that photograph.

'Eren, I mean it. We can't trust these Titans. They've let us down time and again—' he paused and directed an apologetic glance towards Marco. 'No offense to you, Marco,' he added.

The freckled man gave a mild shrug.

‘It’s fine. No offense taken, Jean.’

Jean turned to his partner, annoyed by the guy’s silence.

'Eren, are you even listening?' Jean prompted, snapping his fingers in air.

A grimace came over the peacekeeper’s face. Eren nodded but wouldn’t meet his eye. Because Eren hated these discussions with the ashbrown. Because whenever Jean opened his mouth, he said the truth, and sometimes Eren didn't really want to deal with the truth and the disappointment that came with it. He was running into one roadblock after another. And this time he had arrived at a dead end with nowhere to go, no one to turn to. What did he do now? Go around Maria, search every hospital bed, knock every door, scavenge every nook and corner? Where could Levi be in this maze? Was he injured? Was the man even alive?

His partner was still trying to coax him into leaving. 

'You heard Armin. Let's leave this planet,' Jean urged, walking over to the spot beside Eren. 'That masked freak is not going to help us,’ Jean tried to reason. ‘Let's cut our losses and abort this mission while we can. It’s alright if we’re on our own. Jaeger, are you listening?'

Eren looked up at him.

'Yes, I hear you, Jean... I’m listening,' the peacekeeper admitted sullenly.

Their argument was interrupted by a knock on the door— a door that they left carelessly open. The visitor was Farlan Church. Standing in the doorway, the rebel leader ran a hand through his blond bangs, looking apologetic and awkward amidst them. He’d never been the sociable one, but Farlan was a man of principle and honour. And right now, he knew it was his turn to speak up. Even if speaking up ran the risk of going against the Captain’s authority.

Farlan cleared his throat, his eyes sweeping the inn’s room. 'Forgive me for eavesdropping on your conversation but I beg to differ. You're not on your own,' he looked at Eren as he said this.

The peacekeeper met his gaze, confused.

The rebel leader gave him a smile.

'Eren Jaeger,’ he called out the name softly and gave a small bow in courtesy. ‘I'll be glad to assist you. In your search for your husband.'

A redhead bobbed up behind Farlan, struggling to get past him.

'Aye, count me in as well,' Isabel Magnolia volunteered her support with a cheerful smile.

Jean turned to Eren, scowling hard.

'No, Jaeger, _no._ Don’t do this. Tell me you're not going to consider this.'

The peacekeeper hesitated, turning to his other friends. Armin and Marco didn't know what to make of it either.

Farlan broke the stalemate.

'I’m afraid you don't realise the harshness of existence in the subpars. The nights are very cold outside, temperatures drop to freezing point in the desert. And the streets are a labyrinthine maze, you could get lost between its alleys. You are new to Maria. Do you want to risk heading out alone?'

Isabel nodded, her gaze falling upon the smallest of the lot— Armin. She gave the blond a keen once over, the gears in her head turning. 'Farlan’s right on the money. There are sexual predators too, you know. And if I remember correctly, two of you gentlemen are wanted by the State, no? I’m sure you don't want to get caught by bounty hunters again.'

At the mention of bounty hunters, Armin had a reckoning. He paled and sidled over to Eren's side, tugging at his best friend's sleeve.

The blond nodded nervously.

'On second thoughts, let's stay, Eren,' he suggested.

Jean looked in exasperation at the blond.

'Armin! C’mon, man. Don't worry about stuff like that. You've got me on your side.'

The saint frowned at the ashbrown.

'Uh huh. The last time you said that, you tossed me over an effing bridge, Kirstein. So don’t blame me for not trusting you again.'

Jean rolled his hazel eyes.

Isabel turned to Marco next, her lips quirking up as she considered the taller man and his virtues. 'You are Marco, right? I have a trunk in the attic with my grandmother's old books. She was a hoarder, my sweet nana, and she loved scavenging for relics from Earth.'

Marco's eyes lit up with interest.

'Books?' he repeated. ‘You’ve got books?’

Isabel Magnolia nodded with a mischievous spark in her orbs.

Jean groaned at the freckled man.

 _Not you too, Marco_. 

Isabel clapped her hands, pulling everyone's attention towards her.

'Alright, show of hands. Those in favour of staying at Izzie's beautiful, warm inn which coincidentally provides three whole meals a day, a complimentary breakfast once a fortnight and—' she paused, her green eyes glinting with humour, '—a complimentary foot massage, speak up NOW!'

Jean watched as Armin's hand shot up in the air... slowly joined by Marco's.

He couldn't believe those traitors. He couldn't believe they could be so easily bought.

Isabel turned to Jean, wondering what it would take to convince the ashbrown. He could read what was going through her mind, and he scoffed at her attempt to beguile him.

'Sorry, lady. I’m not that easy,' Jean Kirstein told her. ‘I’m not weak like the others.’

'Is that so?' Isabel hummed, running a hand over her belly thoughtfully. 'You know, right at the end of this corridor, we have a hot tub  in excellent working condition. I believe the people of your world call it— um, a jacuzzi?'

There was a heavy pause, and everyone in the room looked at Jean expectantly.

The ashbrown growled.

'Damn,' was all he said.

 

 

 

In a remote district of Stonehess, in a five-storey apartment of a neighbourhood so derelict that no one owned jets less they be stolen, a man in his early fifties was tinkering away in a room. The workshop was the size of a garage, a wall having been pulled down between two rooms to accommodate a computing grid and a tunnel accelerator.

The stranger ran his fingers over a totem and scanned through the numbers on the projector screen. The accelerator rolled and tumbled, echoing through the room but not beyond the room's sound proofed walls. There was a sleeping bag curled up in a corner. Littered next to it were three cups of dehydrated food. Tom Hannan was unshaven, his beard unruly, and he hadn't seen the mirror in days. He wore an old bathrobe that hung to his thin, skeleton frame. Once a handsome elite known for his top-notch brain, Tom Hannan was amused at his ability to masquerade as an unemployed bozo these days.

He stroked his beard and rolled up the sleeves of his robe. He crunched his math again, working through the abstractions, knowing he was almost through. With a sigh, Hannan ran his hands through his hair, turning vexed. So close to breaking the last of the code. And yet so far. He took off his round glasses and stretched the muscles in his neck.

The doorbell rang, and the man looked startled for a small moment.

Food?

He didn't remember ordering take-out.

Or was it the landlord?

The man forced himself to his feet and staggered to the door. He closed his research lab, locking it secure with his biometrics. The silver door slid shut with a resounding thud, the echoes of the accelerator clamping down in the silence.

The bell rang again, urging him to quicken his pace.

'Yes, yes, I'm coming,' Tom Hannan called to his visitor.

He unlocked the main door, going through four sets of locks, each a puzzle that only he knew the answer to. When he opened the door, there was an urchin standing outside. A delivery boy with curly brown hair and freckles all over his chin. But this boy didn't come bearing food. He held a bouquet of helumbary and faux-roses instead, a beautiful mix of white and red flowers tied with a ribbon and a card that simply said.

 

Best Wishes

 

'Delivery for a...' the urchin proclaimed, looking at the electronic reader hanging around his neck. He squinted at the placard and read out the name. 'Delivery for a Mr Hannan?' the little boy announced gingerly.

The man frowned at the urchin.

'I-I didn't order any flowers.'

There was a movement from behind the boy as the child was pushed back to the rear. There were suddenly two men standing before Tom Hannan, looking tall and imposing.

'Oh, but they are _compliments_ from us. Long-time no see, Mr Hannan,' one of the men said with a mock salute. 'You look well. What’s wrong, dear sir? You don’t like the flowers?'

Tom Hannan took a step back, his eyes flashing wildly between the two men. He recognised their navy-blue uniforms.

'I don't know what you're doing here—' Tom blurted out, taking another step backwards. 'You've caught the wrong man!'

How?

How were they even here?

'Wrong, huh? Oh, if you would lend us your eye for a bit, I'm sure all our mistakes can be put to order,' the officer said, mouth twisting into a smile of sinister glee. 'My name is Lawrence by the way.'

Hannan reached for something in his bathrobe.

‘Armed!' the other officer yelled, warning his comrade.

But D. E. Lawrence had lunged for the fugitive already. Tom Hannan had not been reaching for a gun, a fire arm or even a knife. He was a docile man, not bred for fighting. He had only sought his watch. He pressed a knob on it and winced as he was wrestled to the ground by the Military Police. The watch was wrenched out of his hands and thrown against the floor. Tom Hannan saw it smash against the foot of a chair, its dial cracking.  

The army man gave him a scathing look.

'A distress signal, was it? Who did you send it to?' the man called Lawrence snarled.

Tom smiled but stayed mum.

D.E. Lawrence pushed the elder man against the floor and pinned Tom's arm behind his back, earning a pained gasp from the old man. Lawrence sneered at the man writhing under him. He took out a taser from his vest and held it to the captive's head. The menacing object sparked up, and Tom's eyes widened in fear.

'Now, Mr Scientist, I’d advise you to sit tight and stay calm. You don't want to do anything rash, do you?'

Lawrence looked up at the open doorway. The delivery boy was still watching them, eyes wide in horror. 

'Do something about the kid, Niles.'

Niles Driscoll nodded and striding over to the kid, collected the flowers from the child's hands.

He whistled at the boy, motioning for him to leave.

'You saw nothing, you hear me?'

The urchin nodded.

'Y-Yes, sir! I saw no-nothing. I saw no officers assault a customer. No siree.'

'That's right,' Niles told the boy, giving the urchin a pat on the head. 'Now, be a good kid, get outta here and hurry home to your mum.'

The delivery boy did not need to be told twice and scampered away from their sight.

Inside the house, Lawrence was restraining the captive's wrists.

'Twenty-five years, Mr Hannan,' Lawrence hissed. 'It's taken twenty-five years to capture the last of the Grey Barons. I was a fledgling rookie in the military when you first went off the radar. You were a legend back then. We always heard stories about you and your exploits. You were extraordinary back then.’

The old man bared his teeth at him.

'I’m a civilian, fool! Unhand me. It’s against the law to arrest a law abiding civilian! You have no warrant! I can sue you!'

'A civilian?' Lawrence repeated with a snort. 'You're no civilian, Mr Hannan. You're a crafty weasel but you slipped up. Isn’t it an irony? That it was your weakness for earthlings that finally doomed you. Aren't you curious to know how we tracked you down? Not even a wee bit?'

The man's eyes widened in horror. Realisation dawned on him.

'What did you do?’ he croaked out, voice raised. ‘What did you _do_ to Carla?'

The men looked surprised by his quick grasp of the situation. D. E. Lawrence laughed.

'Your wife is alright. I have my people watching her. Although I can't vouch for her _mental_ well-being. She’s a pitiful creature though. So helpless, these Earthlings.'

They were ill-chosen words. Lawrence’s captive gave a roar and lunged for the army man. Tom Hannan's fingers wrapped around the officer's neck slickly, clamping around the air supply. But his hold was weak, his body aged, and the army man stronger than him by a stretch. 

'By Grace of Mael,’ Lawrence hissed, choking and tried to pull the man off. ‘You’re insane!' Lawrence snapped. He fought against the older man's grip and let out a menacing growl. 'Goddam nutter! Niles, get him off me!' roared the toadface as he struggled to unlatch the man's fingers from his throat.

Niles Driscoll caught the prisoner's shoulders and forced him back. Away from the high officer of the Military Police who coughed violently as he pulled away.

Lawrence didn't thank his aide but grunted in annoyance. Breaking into coughs again, he studied the prisoner's face in contempt. The officer didn’t like being caught off-guard and marvelled at the captive's foolishness to attack a member of the army. Although it did please him that their prisoner was so close to losing it. Lawrence relished in the fact that he had the older man riled up. Attacking an officer would just add to the man's chargesheet. The fugitive scientist was merely digging his own grave.

Lawrence chuckled.

'Tough going for you, eh, Mr. Scientist?’ he snipped at the man. ‘Your luck has finally run out. You’ve been captured, wife’s in a coma. And your son... is following right in your footsteps. You can be proud of him. Oh, so very proud. He's turned into a nasty little bugger himself,' Lawrence remarked, chortling to himself. 'Like father, like son, eh, Mr. Hannan.’

Lawrence’s mirth didn’t show in his eyes.

‘Or should I call you, Grisha Jaeger, instead?'

 

 

 

 

It was late when the masked man returned. Chromium Shark was doused in shadows, as if night had slipped its velvet cover over the roof like a lover cloaking its beloved. The meeting with Moloch had gone longer than he'd expected, but time was a necessity to chalk strategy. The whole Senate plan was a gamble, and they couldn't afford a mistake in the grand scheme of anarchy. Although Moloch did seem too trigger happy than usual, and this change unsettled the Vigilante. The staircase that led to the inn's guest rooms was lit by neon lights. Everyone must have turned in already. Or so he thought.

The masked man had begun striding up the steps when someone appeared in the landing below and cleared their throat.

Levi looked down, only to meet a face he had hoped to avoid.

Eren was leaning against the balustrade and watching him in the silence of the night. Dressed in those clothes of earth, the boy looked edgy and uneasy in the presence of Levi’s alter ego.

There was a small silence.

'Heh. You're still here?' Levi finally spoke out, feigning condescension even if it didn’t come easy.

Eren nodded and watched his masked face carefully.

'Yeah,’ the boy admitted. ‘Sorry but I’m not that easy to get rid of,' Eren proffered with a smile.

There was no change in the inkblot face.

'Is that so?' asked the masked man, looking intently at him. 'Don't tell me you were waiting for me. Shouldn't children be in bed at this hour? Need someone to tuck you in?'

Eren left his spot by the balustrade and walked to the bottom of the stairwell. He stared up at the masked man and ignored his remark and its familiar cloak of jibes and swipes at his inexperience.

'Listen,' the peacekeeper said, attempting to clear the ill feelings between them. 'I shouldn't have called you a coward. Not when I know nothing about you or this place. Your people—' Eren paused, his hands gesturing to the walls of Isabel's inn. 'These people here obviously respect you. What I don't get is… why you're not ready to help me.'

The Vigilante let out a small laugh.

'I told you already. I don't have time to be chasing dead men, Earthborn. There’s nothing in it for me. As simple as that.'

Eren clenched his fingers into a ball.

'I see,' the younger man said.

If Levi had expected Eren to be riled into a beastly fit, he was wrong. Eren placed the ball of that fist over his heart. The brunet stood tall and proud, his chest puffed up and he raised his head again, meeting the Vigilante’s gaze steadfast. There was that raw spirit again, blazing in those turquoise green eyes.

'You said I need to offer something in return, right?' Eren spoke, calling the masked man by his title. 'Well, Captain, I offer myself to you. I'm a trained peacekeeper, a soldier of both worlds. I offer my services to your cause. To whatever _fucking_ crusade you're on. I will fight your enemies for you. But in exchange, in return, I beg you. Please. _Please_ just help me find… him. Rivaille Levi.'

There was a heady silence, the air thrumming with tension.

The Vigilante was quiet for a long, drawn moment. His face remained passive as he watched Eren, gauging the peacekeeper.

'Tell me something,' the masked man finally said, his voice low and hoarse. 'Do you love him that much?'

Eren's fist was still upon his heart, and the young man gave a small nod, his eyes softening in their gaze.

'Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud—' he recited from memory. Eren pulled a pained face and scratched his nose, looking lost suddenly. 'Crap, I forgot how the rest of it goes,' he said, turning a little embarrassed. He closed his eyes again and fought hard to remember the last of his mother's words. He found them eventually.

'But it always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Yeah,' he finished clumsily.

The young peacekeeper finally opened his eyes and nodded at the Vigilante.

'So, yeah... I do,' he vowed.

The masked man did not speak but watched the boy in muted silence.

Eren dropped his stance, folding his hands behind his back.

'Uh, so how about it? Is it alright for me to stay?' Eren asked, keeping his fingers crossed.

The Vigilante said nothing. He shook his head, turned and climbed up the last of the stairs.

'Do what you want,' was all that the masked man said before leaving.

Left in the silence of shadows, Eren felt a momentary surge of gratitude. He took the cryptic answer to be 'yes'.

 _Yes,_ he could stay.

Eren Jaeger looked around at the inn of Chromium Shark, wondering if this strange place would be his new home from hereon.

 

 

 

 

 

_When I was a child, I talked like a child; I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love._

-Corinthians 13

 

* * *

 


	57. His Secrets

 

Chapter-57- His Secrets

~.~

 

Jean Kirstein woke up on the wrong side of the bed. To say the truth, there was no bed at all. Because he’d lost at rock, paper and scissors again and was delegated the floor of the inn for the second night in a row. Marco and Armin had won the comfort of the mattress, and Jean was beginning to feel the game was suspect. Maybe, the two were conspiring against him. Maybe it was the whole universe conspiring against poor Jean. Or it could just be a case of bad karma. Jean couldn't quite tell. The bed spread next to him was empty; the covers lay smoothed down, crease-less and cold to the touch. Meaning, Eren hadn't slept much last night. He remembered Jaeger being restless beside him, tossing and turning, rolling from one end to another and just when Jean had been contemplating wrapping an arm around the fidgety monkey, the young man had snuck out of bed. Eren had left the room at midnight. And from the look of things, he never returned to it.

And why was Jean fretting over the kamikaze idiot?

Since when did he invest so much time into thinking about Eren Jaeger? And why? There were other fishes in the sea. Cuter ones too. And yet, Jean Kirstein had to go and get himself hung up on a clownfish.

Goddam Nemo looking for his old man.

Goddam Eren.

Jean sighed and rolled an elbow over his face.

'Oh, Jean,' his angelic conscience spoke up after an eternity of silence. 'I feel for you. But please tell me you weren't expecting to wake up beside the boy. It is hoping against hope, that's what it is.'

'Of course, he was,' snapped Mephistopheles, adding his voice to the debate. 'My boy deserves at least a lil bit of happiness for all the bullshit he's put up with. Isn't that right, son?'

Jean chewed on his lower lip.

_Don’t call me son._

The saint side of him stayed persistent.

'The boy is married, Kirstein. Married. What would your mother say if she knew?'

Mephistopheles cackled out a laugh.

'Probably encourage him and say atta boy. Don't listen to the haloscum, Jean. You keep pining. And when you're done pining, you can meet me in the second circle of hell. Toodles, son.'

_Don’t call me son, dammit._

Jean clamped down on the weird voices in his head. True, he hadn't thought of home in a long time. Yeah, what would his mom say if she knew? Would she be worried about the fact that he was a runaway fugitive on an alien planet? Or would she be more bothered by her son's bisexuality and his infatuation with... someone like Eren Jaeger?

But that was the whole trouble.

This wasn't just an infatuation. Not a silly boyhood crush.

From the bed, he heard Armin snore. For someone so puny, the blond snored like a pig with tonsils. If Jean craned his neck high enough, he could see Marco sprawled over his bunker with the book 'Nausea' covering his face.

Caught between the Titan and Earthborn best friends of Eren Jaeger, just when Jean thought his day couldn't have a lousier start, there arrived a loud, booming voice. Jean hated loud, booming voices. Especially at such obscene early hours in the morning. Though it was a treat indeed to watch Armin jolt awake and hit his head against the bed post. The whizkid deserved it. Even Marco looked a little perturbed as he woke up. The freckled man raised his bedhead and blinked at Jean in surprise.

'What was that?' Marco asked. 'I thought I heard—'

'WAKE UP!'

It took a moment for the three young men to realise that the loud, booming voice was speaking to them.

'DESPIERTE, people! It's a gorgeous, beautiful morning. We've got eight hours of sunlight and a hundred chores to run!' Isabel's voice thundered through a megaphone. 

Jean growled and pulled the pillow over his head. Anything to get that voice out of his ears.

The others couldn't believe it either.

'Oh man, that lady has gone batshit crazy,' Armin murmured groggily, his head flopping back on the pillow.

'A-YO! GET UP, YOU LAZY BUMS!' the voice urged them again. 'RISE AND SHINE!'

Down in the street, the residents of Maria— the trolley pushers, juveniles and merchant traders gave Isabel an odd look as they passed her establishment. But the woman remained smiling, her gaze fixed on the first storey of her inn. Magnum was beside her.

'You're enjoying this, aren't you?' he said with a smile.

'Of course, _mi papi_ ,' Izzie answered. 'Of course.'

 

 

 

 

They were assembled in the lobby with Isabel pacing the floor. She held a slip of paper in her hand, and she gave it a stiff look. The visitors had shuffled into the room, looking tired and world weary with bags under their eyes. All because it was bleeding six am. Even by Titan’s standards, it was an atrocious hour to be woken up. Even Armin Arlert did not like waking up this early. Unless it involved the magic words of midterm or college credits.

Eren joined the troupe in the hallway.

Jean cast a look of annoyance at the lady who had summoned them.

'So, where's your Captain?' Jean asked the redhead. 'Did he even come back last night?'

Isabel pursed her lips.

'Oh, he did, and he left early. Our _Captain_ is a busy man, that’s all you need to know.'

Jean rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. If he was making an odd fashion statement by wearing his olive-green jacket over his pajamas, he didn't quite care and no one disputed.

'Busy? I bet he is,' he muttered under his breath. ‘Who’s he picking on this time?’

Isabel studied him.

'You should watch your attitude. The Captain may not be here, but he left a list of chores for each of you.'

'Chores?' Armin asked, stifling a yawn. 'Hey, wait a minute. What happened to three whole meals, complimentary breakfasts and a foot massage?'

Izzie smiled at him benevolently.

'Oh honey, you can have all that. But like the Captain said, nothing is free in the world of Titan. You want to stay here, you have to earn your keep. You want your three whole meals a day, then EARN IT, children! But don't worry... we won't work you like slaves. The Captain took note of each of your strengths and abilities before assigning your tasks.’

Jean didn't like the sound of that.

'Uh, but what are these tasks?' Marco Bott asked.

'That's the spirit,' Isabel said, turning to the list and began reading it. 'First up is you, Marco Bott... Did I get the name right?' she asked him and at Marco's gentle nod, she resumed energetically. 'Marco, you will be helping Farlan in the basement. We have our ammunition stored in crates, and those things need routine inspections. No biggie. Just check the cartridges and if the docks are proper. Etcetera, etcetera.'

'Right,' said the freckled man. 'And how many of these crates are there?'

'Oh, about four hundred.'

Marco's eyes widened.

‘We’re sitting on top of 400 crates of ammo?’

Isabel nodded nonplussed. She turned to Armin next and read the Captain's instructions.

'Task number two. Tell squeaky to learn the ropes of operating the water rig. Hunter can teach him.'

'Squeaky?' Armin repeated crossly.

Isabel shrugged and returned a coquettish smile. 'Sorry. Those were the Captain's words, not mine. Personally, I think you have a very youthful voice. Don’t be self-conscious about it.'

Armin threw her a dirty look.

She finally turned to Jean.

'And next up is you, Mr Grumpy,' she said.

Jean glared at the redhead.

'Mr Grumpy, huh? Is that the name your asshole captain chose for me?'

The redhead stifled a smile.

'No, I gave you that,' Isabel deadpanned and grinned at the ashbrown. 'Trust me, Mr Grumpy is a whole lot better than what's written on this paper.'

Jean cocked up an eyebrow, having a bad feeling about what was to come.

'Oh yeah?' he snarked. 'So what does he want me to do? Sort out some dusty cabinets? Learn some lame technology of yours? What is it?'

Isabel Magnolia took a deep breath and considered him.

'You... have to scrub the bathroom tiles. Every single one of them.'

There was a pause.

Jean looked revolted.

'You’ve got to be joking,' the ashbrown protested.

'I'm afraid, that's what it says here.'

Jean glowered at her. He could hear Armin's low whistle beside him.

'Wow. Someone doesn't like you, huh?' the saint observed astutely. ‘Gee, what did you do?’

Jean glowered at the shortie.

‘Armin?’

‘Hm?’

'Do me a favour, and shut up.'

Isabel clapped her hands for their attention. 'Okay, enough with the infighting. Time is money, people. Off you go... Hurry to your stations!' she barked at them. 'And remember, breakfast at eight! Early wingtail gets the worm!'

Before everyone could shuffle off to their respective chores, someone cleared his throat. Everyone grew still for they saw Eren raising his hand.

'Uh, what about me?' he asked dejectedly.

Izzie cast a glance at the paper again. She was quiet for a long moment before she folded the parchment and buried it back in her apron's pocket.

She feigned a smile.

'Eren, you can help out in the kitchen.'

Jean grumbled all the way to the stairs.

'You've got our whole lives chalked out for us, huh? So, what will _you_ be doing, Madame Slaver?' Jean barked at the innkeeper.

Isabel wiggled her nose, unimpressed at the name.

'Me? Oh, I’m Queenbee, darling,' she announced, waving a hand at him dismissively. 'I don't ever work. But if you need any advice on how to get the job done, call for me. I'll be sitting on the patio chair, sipping on my iced tea.'

 

 

 

 

The kitchen of Chromium Shark was quiet as Eren worked with the peeler and skinned the skins off the taters. Isabel kept to her word and sat on a white patio chair, drinking her iced tea while she watched the boy peel the potatoes. Magnum, her _amante_ , had gone to help Marco and Farlan with the artillery stocks. Which meant, Isabel Magnolia had all the time to observe Eren Jaeger, the golden boy from Earth. She was growing fonder of him with every passing day. She liked how quiet he was when brooding. How animated he became when talking about his world. How subdued he turned when remembering things from his past. And just as she admired his silent resilience, he would scrape his fingers against the peeler, cut himself and curse a thousand expletives... before licking his wounds and resuming work again, his injuries all forgotten.

Most strikingly, the young man was painfully conscious of people watching him.

He noticed her staring again.

'Ms Magnolia.'

Isabel clicked her tongue.

'Ms Magnolia is my grandmother. Call me Izzie.'

Eren smiled, but the smile vanished as quickly as it had come. There was now a despairing look on his face.

'Can I ask you something— uh, Izzie?'

The redhead felt inclined to listen.

'Of course! Go ahead and shoot.'

Eren returned the peeler to the counter and hesitated for a small moment.

'My name... wasn't on the list, was it?' Eren finally asked, a cloud of self-doubt marring his face.

The sounds of slurping and ice swirling in her glass paused. Isabel brought her drink down, holding it low. She didn't say anything, choosing to watch the young man instead.

'He doesn't like me, does he?' Eren resumed, picking up his instrument and attacking another potato as if venting his frustrations. 'Your captain. He must hate my guts or something...' the peacekeeper said. 'I don't blame him. I called him a freak, a coward and a pervert. Not exactly a great way to hit it off with the leader of the underworld, I bet.'

Isabel resumed drinking her tea, her green eyes gleaming with mischief. Eren's monologue amused her.

She cleared her throat.

'Captain’s a grouch, that’s a given. Ignore him,’ she said. ‘Tell me more about the person you’re searching for, Eren. This Levi. You mentioned he was a Lance Corporal, right? That’s not a high rank for someone his age, I presume?'

Eren paused, staring at the tater in his hand.

'He wasn’t always a LC. When I first met him, he was a Lieutenant. Lieutenant Rivaille Levi,' Eren uttered the name and smiled fondly at the memory. He should have left reminiscences behind, for a shadow came over his features. 'Of course, two years later, he was stripped of his rank and demoted to LC in the Titan Army. He never told me why. But it never stopped bugging me. He was always keeping secrets, you know. More than me... which is saying something.'

Exhaling, Eren tilted his head up and studied the cabinets of the kitchen.

He sighed and rubbed his nose against the sleeve of his plaid shirt. 'To tell you the truth, I don't know what he was like before we met. He never wanted to talk about his past. But you know the incredible thing? Even when Levi was demoted, he was still the unchallenged leader to his squad. They respected him. And, so did I,' Eren paused, frowning at himself. 'Wait... Why am I telling you all this?'

Isabel merely smiled, taking a sanguine perspective.

'You admire him, don't you?'

The boy’s shoulders sagged, and he returned a half-hearted shrug.

'I did... which is why it hurt a lot. He sold me out to the State. The jerk didn’t even think twice about it. He’d been their informant for years. To be honest, I don’t know how far the lies go back.’

Isabel refrained from asking more. Though his words certainly did not sound anything like _hermano_.

'Maybe he had his reasons?' Izzie offered, wincing on his behalf.

The young man scoffed into the silence.

'In the end, it doesn't matter. To him, I was just a liability. He probably thought I was a brat. Maybe he got tired of me. Maybe I was too much trouble to keep around. I dunno... All I've got are unanswered questions. And clues. That's all he left me with.'

Eren dropped the skinned potato into a bowl but didn’t pick up another one. He watched the cabinets in silence, caught in a maelstrom of doubt and memories.

Isabel didn’t know what to say to him. She fished out the chores list from her pocket and read it again. Eren was wrong about one thing though. His name did appear on the Captain’s note, his name appearing as bullet point four.

 

_Eren:  Stayed awake the whole of last night. Tell him to get some sleep. Don't show him this note._

 

Isabel let slip a knowing smile. She scrunched up the paper into a ball and stuffed it inside her apron again.

'I'm sure he cares for you, _guapo_. Maybe he just didn't know the right words to express it.'

Eren glanced at her. 

'You think so?'

Izzie nodded.

'I’m certain. And I bet he is waiting for you to find him. Don't lose heart, alright?'

Eren stared at her in surprise before nodding his gratitude.

‘Thanks.’

 

 

 

 

The telescreen was screaming eclectic pop music. He could hear it in the hallway, right from the elevator. The drum beats, the strum of the guitar and the tantric rhythm. Madeline was probably watching some electronic dance channel in the dark. Eerily, Madeline couldn't dance to it, and that was alright with him. Madeline had unusual tastes. And he had an unusual taste in Madeline. It was a mutual arrangement between them.

The door to the penthouse opened, and the broad shouldered, tall commander walked in, dressed in a clean cut black tuxedo suit and bowtie. He shut the door and without taking off his shoes, he ventured into his glass home. It was a duplex apartment, with floor to ceiling glass walls that gave an unparalleled view of Trost's tall buildings and the winding roads below. The clean white walls had framed paintings of Vincent Van Gogh and Caravaggio, all thought to be stolen on Earth, but Erwin had bought them cheap from Maria's black market. Some would call it an extravagance but the thick browed commander of the PeaceCorps keenly believed that indulgences made people seem more human.

'On,' he muttered to the network, and Gale switched on the dulcet lights of the penthouse. Erwin Smith took off his tuxedo jacket, draping it over the back of a chair. Unbuttoning the cuffs, he removed his dark vest and folded it into a neat pile.

As he had suspected, there was Madeline sitting on the couch, her gaze locked on the telescreen. Dark onyx hair, petite and obedient. Just the qualities he liked in a woman.

'Welcome back, master,' she said.

'Thank you,' Erwin replied as he scanned the penthouse.

Something didn't feel right.

Madeline gave a quiet nod, without turning to him. 'Would you like to make love tonight?'

Erwin stiffened for a small moment. He gave a disparaging laugh as he took off his bow tie. Madeline never beat about the bush. That was something he didn't quite like about her. Perhaps, he needed to notch up her docility parameters.

'In a while,' he promised her. 'How was your day?'

'Splendid, sir,' she paused. 'Did you enjoy the mayor's banquet?'

'Not really. It was as boring as the man's speeches in the Senate,' Erwin said. 'The truth is I was waiting to get home to you,' his gaze dipped to the curve of her back. 'You look beautiful as always.'

'Thank you,' was her response though it was void of emotion. Madeline was still tuned to the eclectic pop music.

While most women would have frothed at their mouths to hear Erwin Smith compliment them, Madeline sat still, her red eyes never leaving the screen. Erwin Smith gave a quiet, sordid smile and decided to get himself scotch. He strode into the kitchen and made his way to the mini bar, walking past barstools with nickel footrests. As Erwin skimmed through the branded bottles on the shelf, he noted that there was a used wine glass sitting on the glossy top of the island counter.

Which was odd.

Madeline didn't drink. As a matter of fact, she couldn't.

He opened the fridge and noticed the signs. Someone had pilfered through it. The loaf was missing, so was the carton of milk. And he remembered there being two eggs in the carton before. Only one remained. But there was something new.

A small slip of paper.

Erwin took it out and unfolded it.

Just three words.

 

_Look behind you._

 

Erwin turned slowly. And there leaning against the metallic cabinets, was a masked man. Ragged like a scarecrow, the man was perched on the granite counter, squatting with the shadows. He held an egg in his hand, and he juggled it between his gloved fingers.

'I hope you don't mind... that I made myself feel at home,' the man with the inkblot face said.

Erwin sighed and closed the fridge. The voice was not recognizable, but the pose was. There were not many people who had the guts to break into Commander Erwin's home and confront him with such aplomb. He knew of only one old friend, who would attempt something so bold.

Annoyed, he called to the android in the living room. 'Madeline, you're supposed to inform me when we have visitors, sweetheart.'

'I'm sorry, master. He insisted that I remain quiet.'

'Insisted or _threatened_?' Erwin asked Madeline, the commander's gaze narrowing at the masked man before him.

The man in the trench coat gave a throaty laugh in answer.

'Oh, don't take out your anger on the toaster machine, Erwin. It's your fault that your security is crap,' the masked man said, giving Commander Erwin Smith the once over. 'You look good. Though I'd watch the flab. Those banquets and gala dinners will give you a double chin and pot belly in no time. How is the mayor? The old pig doing well?'

Erwin grunted.

'I wish I could return the compliment. But you still look like a circus freak, Levi. No offence.'

'None taken,' the masked man answered.

'And the mayor is happy and oblivious to our concerns as always,' Erwin moved to his mini bar. 'So, what brings you back to Trost? How did you manage to cross the city limits?'

Levi rolled off the counter and strode over to the window, his shoes clicking against the polished tiles of Erwin's kitchen. The shorter man pulled the blinds and gazed at the city of Trost from the height of the penthouse.

'How did I get in? Slip some dough in the right pockets, and you can sing Hallelujah to kingdom come, Erwin. You're too much of a straight arrow sometimes.'

Erwin sighed, as he fetched a new wine glass and poured himself scotch. 'And why are you here, Levi? It's too risky to be visiting me. You do realise that, don't you?'

The masked man was still peering down at the city depths, his gaze fixed on some unknown spot in the distance.

'I just came to drop a tip,' the Vigilante informed him.

'You could have left a message on Gale,' Erwin surmised, taking a sip of his drink. He watched the other man over the rim of his glass, growing worried.

Levi shrugged.

'Certain messages are better delivered in person, especially when the other party likes fornicating with toaster machines. And she calls you _Master_?' the masked man repeated, not caring to disguise the disgust in his tone. 'You have the weirdest fetishes. And I used to think Hanji was strange.'

Erwin smiled politely.

'Says the man wearing a funny mask,' Erwin rebuked, his expression grew serious. 'I thought you came to deliver a tip, Levi.'

'I did.'

'And... what is it?'

There was a short, perceptive pause.

'Make sure you evacuate people from the Senate by five.’

The commander of the PeaceCorp division turned silent. He looked at his watch and read the time. It was two pm.

'That's really short notice for a mass evacuation. Should I ask why?'

Levi shrugged in disinterest.

'Because there are going to be fireworks tonight. Not the pretty kind.'

 

 

 

 

 

_Warring in Heaven against Heaven's matchless King,_

_I'sdeined subjection, and thought one step higher,_

_Would set me highest and in a moment quit_

_The debt immense of endless gratitude,_

_So burdensome still paying, still to owe,_

_Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell._

Book IV, Paradise Lost

 

 

* * *

 

 


	58. Lost Ward

 

 

Chapter-58- Lost Ward

~.~

 

 

The first person that he showed the Polaroid to, was a woman who was selling boxes of tangerines and turenchillas (a spiky, tough-skinned purple fruit that grew in Maria’s desert lands, its pulp a known hallucinogenic.) She offered him a free bite, but Eren declined the fruit politely. The peacekeeper was, after all, on a mission and when you’re on a mission, you don’t dope on stuff you’ve got no clue about. Eren showed her the Polaroid instead, asking her if she’d seen the person in the picture.

The fruit seller went stiff. She looked at the two faces in the photograph, squinted her eye and then to Eren's shock, she nodded, showing signs of recognition.

Eren felt his heart race but decided to wait patiently for her answer. The woman lifted a hand and pointed a finger at Eren, her gypsy nails red-painted and sharp.

‘Certe,’ she said in Latin.

The peacekeeper sighed and hunkering down to match her height, he tapped the face of the _other_ man in the picture— the one with the faint smile on his lips. Eren was aware of how he'd memorised the entire picture by now. From how peaceful Levi looked... to the way the ice cubes sat half melted in Eren's glass. From the way Eren had his arm wrapped around Levi's shoulders to the amusement in those haunting grey eyes. What had Levi been thinking in that moment? What was going through the man’s head back then? Eren wished he knew. And if Eren had known, truly known the secrets of the man, what would he have done? Would he have wrapped his arm tighter around Levi and never let him go?

‘No, lady, I'm not asking about me,’ he told the woman and tapped Levi’s face in the picture. ‘This guy. Have you seen _him_? The one on the left?’

The woman squinted at the picture again, examining it at length before shrugging.

‘Mea culpa. Nego,’ she answered in Latin again.

Which must be Titan equivalent for ‘Nope. Nada.’

Eren sighed, dropping his head. He scratched his chin furiously, disappointed with himself and the world around him. He looked back at her and managed a weak smile. To thank the fruit-seller for her time, he bought a tangerine from her using Magnum’s money.

Getting up, he walked over to a corner and collapsed onto a crate. Using it as a makeshift bench, he brought up the fruit to his mouth, peeled a patch off and took a bite of his tangerine. He lifted his head and scanned the locale, taking in the sights and smells. Maria’s bazaar was like a Russian nesting doll, growing one breakway inside another, creating a convoluted network of cobblestone and gravel pathways. There were people selling breads, fruits, dates, auto parts, mechanical limbs and pretty much anything under the dwarf sun. The roads diverged into tunnel pathways, the pathways into alleys, the alleys eventually tricked you, snaking through the cluttered homes of the subpar and ending up in the middle of nowhere. Or sometimes, circling you around to right where you started. The yellow smoke of hookahs and cigar saturated the air, smelling thick of oil and sundry. The roads were a sprawling tide of varied races, humans and machines. And somehow the residents of Maria, the so-called inferiors, despite being from different walks of life, understood how to navigate this clutter of Maria. They made it look so easy. Farlan wasn’t joking when he said you could get lost in Maria. The true test was keeping on one's toes and to not get swept away by the crowd.

Eren ate his fruit in silence and searched for Magnum in the sea of faces around him. He found the man with dreadlocks exchanging words with a shady looking aide.

The peacekeeper glimpsed up at the canopy that stretched between the road sides. Gentle light filtered through the matted fabric of the canvas, illuminating the cramped spaces. Voices filled the market: languages, words, drums and colors. The peacekeeper peered around, wonder and curiosity lit in his gaze. There was a strange beauty in all the chaos. He'd never seen such a mess in the structured city of Trost or even in the capital Stonehess. Titan boasted perfection and geometry, never this. 

It was hard to believe that his guardian— the orderly and disciplined Rivaille Levi— the husband with a terrible case of obsessive compulsive disorder— had once belonged to this place. Yeah, Eren realised, turning crest-fallen at the revelation he was having.

It was so easy to forget people had a history. A history that Eren had no clue about, a history that he had no place in.

 

_And what will you do if I tell you the truth? That yes, I lived among beggars, thieves and hookers. That yes, I had to trudge through the accumulated filth of Titan to survive. That there was no one to help me or anyone else for that matter. What will you do, Eren?_

 

Levi's question echoed in his head. True, he still didn't have the answer to it. Eren rubbed his elbow out of habit. Looking at the crowd around him, he broke into a soft smile.

_Is this where you grew up, Levi? Is this where you spent your entire childhood?_

_Were these streets your playground?_

_It's... not so bad, you know._

Because for a small moment, Eren could imagine it. He could see a morose looking child walking these very lanes. A boy emaciated, with serious grey eyes and sleepless shadows lining them. A boy who’d not known luxury while growing up. Eren could see this child stealing food and climbing chimneys in his haste to escape. The trials of a child paving the way for the man who was to come. But for now, an orphaned child who was likely poorer and lonelier than Eren had ever been. Who never had a mentor to guide him the way Eren had. And yet, Levi never spoke a word about his past, never once complained. Despite all those times the older man spent putting up with Eren’s cribbing about school and college, Levi had never once hinted about his own childhood or the dire circumstances behind it. Why was that? Did he think Eren lacked the maturity to comprehend?

Yeah. He probably did.

Could screwing up college finals ever compare to eking out a living on the streets?

Eren’s gaze fell to his right hand, to the silver band on his ring finger. Armin had returned both the key and ring to him, but Eren couldn’t choose the heavier burden among the two.

_We were always two worlds apart, weren't we?_

Eren struggled to accept it. But he couldn't deny the truth. He'd been an idiot, a tactless fool. All those times he spent complaining about assignments, deadlines, stingy professors, his Irish boxing coach and exorbitant tuition fees, did he ever stop and wonder how Levi felt about it all?

Why did the man put up with it?

Had Levi always indulged him?

Why?

Eren unfurled his fingers and stared at the ring.

_I'm sorry, Levi. I’m so sorry._

_You're right. I’m a fucking moron. I should have paid better attention._

_Hell, I should have asked the right questions._

_If I’m your husband, why the hell do I know so little about you?_

Eren ran a free hand through his hair as he remembered the crash site outside of Maria. Why did Levi come out so far? What was the man seeking out here in the desert? Did he intend to return to his roots? To his old home?

The peacekeeper dropped the remains of the fruit into a bin and with a heavy heart, he joined the crowd of Titans. Some people looked warily at him, the brunet looking out of sorts in his plaid shirt, tank top and trousers— they seemed to recognize the otherworldliness of his clothes. Titans brushed past his shoulder, most engrossed in their worldly troubles. Magnum had escorted Eren to Maria's bazaars in the hope that Eren could begin his search here and try asking around. Easier said than done. Because the people here... spoke a multitude of languages, which he didn’t understand, and most people here looked hostile, edgy and passive-aggressive like they were on parole or were looking for a fight.

The second person Eren approached had a dragon tattooed across his biceps and the heart sutra inscribed on his back.

'Uh, hello, hey… can I ask you something,' Eren asked, tapping the man's shoulder.

The stranger whirled around and cast a look of annoyance at the brunet. Built like a tow truck, he towered over the boy easily and gave Eren the once over, sizing him up.

'You speakin' to me, pikie?'

Words failed the peacekeeper for a moment. He stood gaping at the large figure before him. Because this man was huge, massive, even bigger than Reiner Braun. 

'You, a deaf mute?' the tattooed brute snarled, turning impatient.

Eren gathered his wits and grappled for the picture in his pocket. 'Oops, sorry. It's just a quick question. I am looking for someone around here. He's someone  from these parts. Have you seen this guy—'

The man from the ghetto wasn't even listening. He grunted, swatted Eren's hand aside and turned to walk away. 'Got no time, pikie. Bother someone else,' he muttered as he passed Eren.

The brunet stared open mouthed at him before turning indignant at this treatment.

'Hey dude,' he called, 'What's your problem? What's with the holier-than-thou attitude, you overgrown ape?' Eren yelled to the man's back, looking incensed. 'You could at least hear me out. It’s the decent thing to do.'

He forgot that decent and Maria rarely mixed. 

The brute stopped and turned slowly. ‘Ape?’ the man echoed in distaste, whipping his head towards Eren. He retraced his steps back to the peacekeeper, who gulped and braced himself, and without any warning, caught the collar of Eren’s shirt and lifted the boy to his toes. The crowd parted around them as if anticipating a scuffle. Eren blinked, grieving as he wondered why he could never keep his big mouth shut. 

'What did you just call me?' the brute demanded, nostrils flaring and a vein throbbing in his neck.

Thankfully, Magnum arrived just in time and pushed himself between them. He pacified the giant, got Eren lowered to the sanctity of the ground and forced Eren to tender an apology. The tattooed man growled and released the PeaceCorp. Mollified by Magnum's presence and even recognising Magnum for his affiliations, the brute huffed, shoved past Eren to disappear into the crowd again.

Magnum let out his pent-up breath.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he turned to Eren.

'Good lords, Eren,’ he huffed, pulling a pained face at the brunet. ‘If you want a fight, earthling, can you please pick someone your own size,' the man with the dreadlocks sighed. 'This is Maria and you have to be polite to the residents, Eren. Most folks here have gangs to back them up. Please don't go mouthing off or you'll find yourself in deep shit.'

‘But I _was_ being polite—’ Eren tried to defend himself, but his words were drowned by hoots and cries of jubilation. He turned to his right and saw that the noise was from a crowd gathered around the rubric of an electronics store. Magnum and Eren squeezed their way to the front of the gathering. The store keeper was shouting at the visitors to disband and to get back to their goddam lives, but no one was really paying any attention to the old bloke. The spectators were tuned in to the telescreens on display, a different channel on each screen but all showing the same images. A plume of grey smoke rose from a building structured like a horseshoe, an entire wing blown to concrete and dust. Eren recognised the place instantly. He'd been there before. The Senate— the place which housed Trost's Court of Justice and where he’d been almost courtmartialled once upon a time.

The reporter looked grave in her briefing.

Eren struggled to hear her words over the excited cheers of the crowd.

'— A large explosion rocked the Senate House this evening, injuring twelve Mechatronic guards and decimating the west wing in entirety. The blast, believed to be RdX, followed a tip received this afternoon warning of a possible attack on the Senate house. Thanks to intelligence and evacuation efforts, no human lives were lost. The explosion comes at a time when the Ministry of the State was expected to meet on the premises to pass the Subpar Clearance Bill,' the newsreader informed them. 'The search is _on_ for other possible RdX implants. An investigations team will be sent in to assess the preliminary damage. No group has assumed responsibility for the attack, but the Military Police has gone on record saying, it suspects the rebels to be behind it. Other sources claim that the attack had been premeditated for months, and Trost could very well be the first in a long series of targets. Stay tuned with us as we keep you updated—'

Eren peeled his eyes away from the telescreen, looking shell-shocked.

'Jesus Christ,' he uttered. 'Who the heck would dare attack the Senate?' 

He noticed Magnum grinning beside him.

'Why, the Vigilante of course,' Magnum whispered to him, smiling.

Eren stared.

 _'What?_ '

 

 

 

 

Elsewhere, Isabel led Jean down the first landing of the inn. They arrived at a door and she turned the knob, letting the rickety door swing back. 'There's your Jacuzzi, Mr Grumpy. All yours. First class model,' she said cheerily, pointing to the porcelain tub at the end of the bathroom.

Jean gave the tub a narrow glance. This was no whirlpool hot tub that he’d been promised.

'You're joking, right? That's not even a Jacuzzi,' the ashbrown young man pointed out. 'That's just a regular bathtub with bubble foam and a yellow duckie. Are you making fun of me?'

The redhead rolled her eyes. 'Yes, I lied,' Isabel admitted, placing a stack of dry towels on the shelf railing. 'In fact,this might come as a total surprise to you, but grown-ups _lie,_ Mr Grumpy _,_ ' she said, winking at him before leaving the bath and allowing Jean the privacy to change. The door slammed shut behind her; Jean heard the woman's steps lumber down the corridor.

He turned and gave a glance of dismay at the tub. It was filled to the brim, bubble foam and all, but it was no Jacuzzi.

Yes. He’d been deceived by Titans again. He wasn’t even surprised anymore.

Cursing the alien lot under his breath, Jean grabbed the towel from the hanger and strode over to his poor excuse of a Jacuzzi. He stripped down to his skin and kicked his clothes to a messy pile. If he'd been paying attention, he ought to have noticed the discarded book on the side of the bathtub. Jean Paul Sartre's The Age of Reason.

But he didn't.

Tired from his chores, his overwhelming feelings about a hot mess named Eren Jaeger and his anger from having to deal with the riff-raff of Titans, Jean didn't notice the book and sank one foot into the water. He tested the temperature. Well, there was no whirlpool to soak in but... at least, the water was lukewarm. He landed the other foot in and submerged himself to waist level. Leaning against the edge of the tub, he let out a deep, contented sigh. Nothing like a bath after a long, arduous day of chores. Contrary to popular belief, Jean Kirstein was a hard worker when he wanted to be. He had spent the entire day, cleaning and scrubbing the three bathrooms of the guest lodgings. At first, he thought he would mutiny and refuse to do it. But then, it struck him how the masked creep— yes, that schmuck for lack of a better word— was probably expecting him to complain. So, Jean, being Jean, decided to do just the opposite. Ha, reverse psychology in your face, Mister Vigilante.

Reclining against the cool sides of the bathtub, the ashbrown stretched out his legs under the bubble foam and that was when his foot hit something. Except he shouldn't have reached the end of the tub so soon. Sure, Jean admitted that he was tall (as well as handsome, dashing and a great catch) but he didn't imagine that this pathetic excuse of a Jacuzzi couldn't accommodate a single grown man.

And if what he’d encountered was the edge of the bath tub, why was it… so soft and fleshy? He nudged the thing with his foot again.

There was a loud splash as a figure emerged out of the water like a Loch Ness monster rising from the bowels of a Scottish lake. Shocked, Jean let out a yelp and jumped to his feet.

Except this was no friggin' lake monster... but a familiar Titan ally.

Marco looked drenched to the skin. Breathing hard, he swept the wet tendrils of hair from his eyes, looking very puzzled with himself and his surroundings.

Jean stared at the freckled man, sputtering in disbelief. He struggled to speak, struggled to make sense of Marco's presence in his bathtub. His eloquence fled him.

'Mind explaining what the _fuck_ you’re doing here?'

Marco wiped the water from his face and looked up at Jean, blinking in surprise.

The freckled PeaceCorp let slip a sheepish smile.

'Oh, it's you Jean. Sorry... I didn't mean to scare you. I was trying to see how long I could hold my breath.'

Jean pulled a face, wondering if the man had finally broken. Of course, not even Marco was susceptible from having a nervous breakdown.

'Why? Why were you holding your breath? What the hell for?' he asked incredulously.

Marco shifted positions, crawling to the other end of the tub.

'Well, apparently that's one of the first lessons to be learnt in swimming, isn't it? Holding your breath.'

Jean dropped his arms to his sides. 'Wait. You don't know swimming?' Jean said, surprised at the revelation.

Marco shook his head and smiled. 'Nope, which is why I was trying to learn.' The taller man looked up at Jean who was still standing, the bubble foam clinging to his bare skin. Marco's gaze shifted downwards. The freckled man turned slightly embarrassed.

'Uh, Jean... You might want to sit back down.'

'Huh?' said Jean, oblivious.

Marco pointed to his peer's nether regions.

'Trust me. Please sit down. I insist.'

Jean passed a quick glance down and realised he was standing stark naked, much to his mortification. The ashbrown flopped down so quickly, the water in the tub splashed. Jean Kirstein looked away, scratching his nose in embarrassment. Marco, being a perfect gentleman, picked up his book and resumed reading. No word was spoken about the awkward incident until Jean detected the hint of a smile on the other man's lips.

'Hey you. What the hell's so funny?' Jean asked in a quiet voice.

'Nothing,' Marco replied.

'You are smiling, you know.'

'Sorry,' the gentle Titan apologized again. 'I just got one of my questions answered. That is all.'

Jean gave him a sideways look.

'And what's that?'

'It was just human curiosity, Jean. Drop it.'

'Oh no, I _insist_ ,' Jean mimicked as he crossed his arms. 'Tell me, o wise one.'

Marco sighed and closed the book in his hands. Returning the book to drier quarters, the freckled man caught a handful of bubble foam.

'Well, I was wondering, y'know,' he ventured to explain. 'From the perspective of anthropology and biological evolution…. We are from different worlds. I was wondering whether there is any substantial difference between the lengths of our… you know.' Marco never finished the line of thought.

There was a long, hard silence.

Jean pressed a hand to his face, realisation dawning on him.

'God, you Titans are such perverts. Let's just pretend this never happened, okay?' the ashbrown said.

Marco, still smiling, obliged to his request.

There was a knock on the door and before either Marco or Jean could answer, the door to the bath swung open. Armin stood before them or what they _thought_ was Armin. The saint was covered head to toe in sludge as if he'd just returned defeated from a mudslinging match.

'What the heck happened to you, mud monster?' Jean asked, giving a bark of laughter at the sight of Armin.

Armin shook his blond head (though not a trickle of blond hair was visible under the layer of all that goo).

'Don't ask. Please _don't_ ask,' Armin said, as he trudged over to the tub and despite the protests from Jean and Marco, rolled himself into the tub.

 

 

 

 

Having tried his luck at a soup kitchen and after questioning a group of unemployed youths gambling before a liquor store, Eren passed into a section of Maria that seemed almost deserted. The road from the market teetered off into a brick and mortar alley. Here, he found a woman sitting on a moth-eaten carpet, with her back to the wall. She wore the garb of gypsies, a thick red shawl wrapped around her shoulders and bead chains hanging around her neck. Her face pockmarked, with piercings on her ears, nose and lips, she beheld him with her blue eyes.

Eren wondered if she was a fortune teller.

The young man from Earth was drawn to her. He sank on one knee before her and pulled out his Polaroid.

'Excuse me, uh—ma'am,' Eren Jaeger said politely, the way Magnum urged him to. He showed her the photograph. 'I’m looking for this guy. Have you seen him around here?' Eren asked the gypsy.

The woman gave the picture a long, deliberate glance. She studied the two people in it. Her eyes, shrewd and magnetic in their depths, flitted back to the peacekeeper, and she shook her head.

Eren tried not to be disappointed. He tapped Levi's portrait again and described the man in a last-ditch effort, his voice soft. 'You sure you haven’t seen him?’ he urged her to reconsider. ‘He's got dark hair, he's shorter than me, older than me. He might be wearing a uniform. Could be injured too. Any of this ring a bell? Have you seen _anyone_ around like that?'

The gypsy woman studied the picture.

'No,' she said. 'Never seen 'im.'

Eren's shoulders slumped, and his bubble of optimism deflated a little. He sat down on the gravel, crossed his legs, weaving slightly. Eren withdrew his hand and looked down at the Polaroid, at the creased picture held between his fingers.

A dead end for the twelfth time. Eren Jaeger had left no stone untouched in his search. He had asked all kinds of people— young and old; male, female and yes, even the transvestites hanging around a bodyshop; he’d pestered the homeless and the merchants... but no one knew, seen or heard of Levi. The brunet dropped his chin, frowning. Eren wondered whether he was on the right track. A small part of him suspected... if this was all a futile cause.

What if Levi really did die in the crash? What if that silhouette marked in white chalk in the desert had really been Levi's?

Dread overcame him. Eren’s face went slack, his breath hitched. He didn't want to even consider that possibility. 

Because Levi being dead meant Eren would be left alone in this world, alone in this whole wide universe... and he couldn't deal with that kind of closure. He just _couldn't_. There was the void again, trying to draw him into the darkness, reminding him how much he'd relied on that guardian of his. How much he'd taken for granted until now. 

Eren realised he was being watched by the gypsy.

She gave him a consoling nod. 

'Perhaps the stars can give you an answer, lad.'

Eren gave her a suspicious glance.

'The stars?' he repeated.

The woman nodded again with a sudden flourish of energy. 'I can read your future,' she suggested.

Eren considered her warily. Maybe it was his frustration or a vain hope in miracles, but Eren gave in.

'Show me your right hand,' the gypsy directed.

'My hand?'

The woman in the red shawl reached for him. 

'Yes, the stars and planets can be traced to the lines and mounts of your palm. I will read out the answer for you.'

Eren held out his right hand gingerly.

The woman ran a bony finger along the ridges of his palm. She traced the lines, making a deep hum in her throat. Eren didn't know what the gypsy saw in them or if it was all a ploy, but he saw a change in her expression. The woman looked unsettled for a brief second.

'So?' Eren urged, feeling ticklish by her touch. 'Any luck?'

The woman said nothing, her eyes fixed on his palm.

'The stars are awfully quiet, huh?' Eren quipped, unable to keep a straight face.

The gypsy wrinkled her nose.

'Patience! Do not mock the mystic eye,' the gypsy urged. 'I see… Oh, I see maaaannnnnyyyy things. Hurdles. Crossroads. In love. In your future.'

Eren stared at the crown of her head.

Crossroads in love? What the heck. It was a little too late for him to be at crossroads in love.

'That doesn't really answer my question,' he said.

The gypsy shrugged.

Eren tried to pull his arm back, but the woman latched on to his elbow with a vice-like grip. 'Hola. Where do you think you're going? How about my payment, young man?'

'Whoa,' the brunet blurted out. 'You didn't mention anything about money!'

'Don't act innocent. I don't do charity, y'know,' the gypsy spoke fiercely, her eyes flashing anger. 'I told your future so you gotta pay me.'

Eren scowled at her.

'Sorry, lady. But I've got nothing on me.'

It was true. He’d run out of the pocket money Magnum had lent him hours ago.

The woman glanced greedily at his right hand and eyed the silver band on his ring finger.

'What about this? Looks precious enough.'

Eren shook his head in stout denial.

'No, sorry. I can't give you that.'

The fortune-teller turned irate.

'I need payment, lad. My children are starving so have some pity. I tell fortune, customer pays. It's how this works, no charity,' she said.

Eren considered the woman and felt a sliver of remorse. Just a little. After all, he did take up a good chunk of her time. He looked down at his shirt and pointed her attention towards it.

'How about this? Will my shirt cover your lame ass fortune-telling?'

The woman looked at his offering and wrinkled her nose again. Rolling her eyes, she gave a grudging nod.

'Fine, hand over the shirt.'

 

 

 

 

Magnum was breathless when he arrived back at Chromium Shark. At the same moment, the sky above Maria rumbled, tell-tale signs of a storm approaching. Isabel was the one who answered his frantic knocking. Panting, he tried to look past her shoulder at the interiors of the inn, hoping that the young man— that is, the Earthborn with a nose for trouble— had made it back somehow.

'Oh, please tell me he's here,' Magnum told Isabel in desperation. 'Please tell me he came back.'

'Hah? Who are you talking about?' Izzie asked, not liking his tone in the least.

Magnum was a nervous wreck. A babbling nervous wreck. 'Oh no, Isabel…' he crowed. 'He was right there before my eyes. And then, I turn to talk to this old buddy of mine. There we were reminiscing about old times— Doohan and I... and when I turn around, he's disappeared. Oh Izzie, I lost _him_. I lost the boy. I can’t find the earthling anywhere. I searched every nook and corner. He's gone!'

Isabel caught her _amante_ 's shoulders and steadied him.

'Tell me all,' she said, her face turning dead serious.

Magnum sighed and pressed his hands over his temple.

'Gods of Titan, Eren's disappeared. I lost Eren in the bazaar, Izzie.'

Isabel glared at her _amante_ and looked outside the inn, searching the panorama. There was another rumble of thunder and soon, the rain came pelting down. People on the street rushed for cover against the acid rain. Isabel made an exasperated sound at the back of her throat, dread filling her to the core. 'Oh Magnum, how the hell do you lose a man-child as tall as you? You had _one_  job and you go screw it up. One job, _amante_.'

Magnum winced at her tone, wringing his hands in worry.

'The Captain is going to _kill_ me, isn't he?'

Isabel Magnolia snarled at her paramour and darted back inside. 

'I hope that was a rhetorical question, _amante_. Cos' he's going to kill Eren first, and _then_ he's going to kill you. Rest assured, love.'

Magnum cast a forlorn look at the road, his eyes still on the lookout for the boy's familiar face. 

'He can take care of himself, right?' Magnum asked, sounding worried for the Earthborn suddenly. 'He'll be alright, you reckon? He looks like a smart kid. He should be alright.'

Isabel pursed her lips as she made her way to the basement, down the flight of steps that led to the communication base.

'If he doesn't pick a fight with anyone, then yes. But considering how Eren can't hold his temper or keep his clothes on, I highly doubt so.'

 

 

 

* * *

 


	59. The Guardian

 

 

Chapter-59- The Guardian

~.~

 

 

_I have let it pass, Levi. Your obstinacy. But the next time you decide to make my court a vaudeville circus, I will strip you of your colours and send you back to the streets. Remember it._

A challenge.

He had always liked challenges.

He wondered if Darius Zachlay had heard of the incident yet.

_Is this circus-y enough for you, Reverent Judge?_

Levi hung from a high rafter; his boots lent support by the scaffold of Gale's communication tower. He clasped a gloved hand around the cable, climbing up the last three feet until he had an uninhibited view of the Senate House. Sirens of ambulances and surveillance drones blazed into the night, screeching till there was a dull ache in his ears. It was a bittersweet ache. He could still see the smoke rising from the ruins, spiralling upwards to the dark heavens of Titan's smog-filled sky. The special task force would comb through the ruins soon, searching for the source of the destruction.

There was a manhunt on, and he knew that they would come for him. _Eventually._ Until recent times, he had been one among them, a wolf pretending to play a sheep's part. Until few months ago, he'd been the one investigating leads, breaking fingers, collecting information, commanding his squad to root out terror cells and aberrant machines. All in the name of the glorious State. Titan prevails, Titan prevails for glory and name. But not anymore.

He was on the wrong side of the law now, a place he hadn't been in a long while... and there lay the whole irony in the scheme.

In taming him, in bringing him under their wing, the State had gambled heavy. They’d wanted a man of his strong disposition on their side, thinking he could be converted and worked to the bone for their cause. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, like Moloch had once said.

The State had almost succeeded in this endeavor.

But a dog never forgets the hand that fed it as a pup. Because while the subpar was his filthy home, it was still a home he couldn't deny or turn a blind eye to. It was his beginning, and it will be his end.

Levi looked at the smoke and ruins of the Senate’s western wing.

 _Burn_ , he muttered under his breath. _Burn, and remember it's only the beginning._

'A beautiful view, ain't it?' someone said from below. 'This glimpse of anarchy. So magnificent.’

Levi looked down and noticed Moloch at the foot of Gale's tower. The man leaned against the serrated fencing; the disproportionally small eyes of the one-armed pyromaniac moved from the landscape to the masked man hanging above him.

'This seals our friendship,' Moloch remarked, breaking into a crooked smile. His teeth gleamed as he raised his mechanical arm in mock cheer. 'And marks the start to a new age, Vigilante. Hail the revolution!'

Levi grunted as he detached the hook and swung down, landing on his feet. He dusted his shoulders from the rust of the scaffolding and gave a snort in answer.

'Bombs and bloodshed don't make friends, Moloch. Not even a revolution.'

The tall, muscular man watched Levi curiously.

'Says the man who directed this whole play. Don't act so humble, Mr Vigilante. This is your show after all. I’m just providing the cast.'

Levi didn't answer; something about the man's tone still chaffed him. Plus, he felt a vibration on his wrist and when he pulled the cuff, Levi saw his comm. link blinking in red.

The link wasn’t on Gale and connected him to the base in Maria instead. Isabel knew better than to call him when he was out. Unless—

'Something wrong?' Moloch asked, curiosity creeping into his voice.

Levi did not indulge him with a response. There was no time for conversation. Cursing under his breath, the masked man hastened to leave, aware of Moloch's watchful eyes following his every move.

 

 

 

 

It’d been an hour since Magnum announced that Eren was missing.

It’d been an hour since Jean Kirstein decided to join the search party.

The roads of Maria were deserted; people took shelter inside homes and shops, everyone waiting out for the rain to end. There was a mist that clung to the narrow cobblestone street and made visibility treacherous. Marco held the transparent umbrella over them as Jean stopped in his tracks. Donning a raincoat like Marco, the young man from earth jabbed his index and middle finger into his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. The sound pierced like a blade through the rain, like a lighthouse beaming in a hurricane. Marco felt a chill run through his spine and was visibly amazed by the strength and pitch of that sound.

Jean Kirstein was full of surprises, Marco surmised. There was the man's pride at being an Earthborn, his sharp tongue, his artless honesty and as well as that boyish embarrassment that suited him quite well.

There was no answer to his first call except for the sounds of the relentless rain. The ashbrown didn’t give up on any account; he puffed up his cheeks and let out another whistle.

When his lungs were rendered dry, Jean dropped his hands and peered around anxiously. He waited restless, hands fidgeting. He heaved, his brows knit in concern.

No answer yet again, which meant that Eren was nowhere in the two-block radius.

Marco scanned the neighbourhood around them.

'You know Jean, I'm pretty sure Eren isn't a horse or a dog for that matter. How is this supposed to help?'

There was a pause.

'It was our code,' Jean confessed at long last. 'When we were working as partners. When we were on vigils back in our world, we made up our own system of communication outside Gale. Eren... he does a great impersonation of a frog, you know,' Jean smiled as he said this.

'While you could whistle?’ Marco trailed in understanding. ‘Oh, I see now.’

'Yeah...' the younger man said.

Marco nodded complacently and studied Jean in the rain, growing thoughtful. Before they’d set out from the inn, Marco had extended an arm out and felt the rain. The sulphurous downpour stung as it met his skin, and he didn’t need a weather report to tell him to carry an umbrella. But Jean didn’t care much about the rain, acid or not. The freckled man gave a small smile, realisation dawning on him.

'Jean.'

'Yeah?'

'You love Eren, don't you?'

Jean froze up.

Bingo, right on target, Marco deduced, watching the other man in rapt attention. 'That kiss in the kitchen was more than just brotherly, am I right?' Marco observed astutely.

Looking away from the freckled man, Jean let out a low sigh. He seemed aggravated... whether with himself or this world, Marco Bott couldn't quite tell.

'Trust me, Marco. I try not to... I try with _every_ last ounce of my strength to give up on that idiot. But it never works out. I'm not even sure who the more pathetic one is. Him or me,' Jean gave a grunt in frustration. Finding nothing else to vent his spleen on, he pressed his fingers into his mouth again and let another whistle blow. When there was no answer for the third time, the ashbrown growled.

'But if there’s one thing I know, I need to settle a score with someone,' Jean resumed, his gaze narrowing. '— And it's with that bastard who's left Eren behind.'

Marco watched him in muted silence.

Jean gave the freckled man a sidelong look.

'You feel sorry for me, don't you?'

Marco shook his head, disagreeing.

'No, Jean. Being loved by someone gives you strength... while loving someone deeply gives you courage. I think you're very courageous, my friend.'

Jean scowled. Though a small part of him felt oddly charmed when Marco called him a ‘friend’. Weeks ago, Jean Kirstein would have never guessed that he’d make a friend on this side of the universe. Wonders never ceased.

'That sounds like circular logic,' he said with a roll of his eyes.

Marco patted his shoulder comfortingly. 'You may be right. Besides, I'm sure Eren understands your feelings. Even if he's not able to return them.'

Jean regarded the freckled Titan for some time and let out a scoff.

'Armin’s right. You're a weird little bookworm. Who said that anyway?'

'The quote?' Marco asked, beaming at him. 'A Chinese philosopher called _Laozi_.'

'Wow. You're going oriental now, huh?' Jean quipped with a smile.

Marco grinned before steadying the umbrella over their heads and turning to scan the neighborhood.

'I guess we can rule this place out. Shall we try the next block?'

'Yeah,' Jean said, relieved at the change in subject.

They were about to turn back when they saw a shadow cross. It swept past their heads, swift like a hawk scouting the landscape for its next kill. But this was no bird, no aerial machine. They caught sight of it for a fraction of a second before it shot a grappling gun, a wire hooking into the next building. The figure jumped again, gliding towards the next roof. Never stopping to breathe. Never stopping to look back at them.

'What the hell!' Jean blurted out, hazel eyes glued to the shape. ‘What’s that?’

Marco squinted at the figure as it leaped again, boots splashing off rain-pooled rooftops.

Jean scowled as he caught an outline of the vanishing figure.

The rain slowed; visibility marginally improving. He recognized it now.

A fedora.

A trench-coat.

'Shit, it's that creep...' Jean cursed, grabbing Marco by the arm and pulling them into a chase. 'C'mon, Marco. Let's go find Eren before that schmuck does.'

 

 

 

 

He remembered a conversation from earlier.

'Trade for trade, Levi. I have information for you as well,' Erwin had said, stopping the masked man at his front door.

Levi regarded him patiently.

‘What is it, Erwin?’

'Grisha Jaeger has been captured,' Erwin revealed, and a tense silence followed that proclamation. 'I'm not aware where he is being held right now; my guesses are anywhere between Utgard and Stonehess. A source of mine says the Military Police is subjecting him to their painful methods every hour, every minute right as we speak. But rest assured, he's not talking yet. The Grey Baron is surprisingly resilient for his age.'

The masked man's head turned to give the commander a cold stare.

'How does this concern me, Erwin? Do you expect me to go rescue him just because he’s my _father-in-law_?'

His friend sighed and studied his own fingers, picking at his nails. 'I couldn’t care less for what your familial relationship is. But as a Grey Baron, his capture does concern the both of us. Levi, the plans have been put into motion. You know what that means... don't you? They'll come for Eren next. He has the key.'

Levi lingered at the door to the penthouse but said nothing. He could hear the marionette humming in the kitchen. Madeline was making tea, a tea that Levi did not have the time to entertain.

Erwin was looking at him strange. 'I heard from Hanji that Eren's back in Titan. Perhaps you are aware already. Perhaps he’s already _found_ you?' Erwin trailed off, trying to decipher the answer from the body language of his friend.

Levi gave a snort.

'Eight years ago, you put me in charge of that brat, Erwin. Why am I still playing his guardian?'

'We all know the answer to that question, Levi.'

There was a 'tch' in response.

'Well, I'm tired. Nor do I have the time to be babysitting anymore.'

'Is that so? Then, what will you do if they come for him?' the Commander countered.

The man with the inkblot face did not answer immediately, but Erwin could see the fingers clench around the door knob.

'Let them try. They are going to eat dust. Because I will send him back, Erwin,' the ink on the mask moved, settling into a new Rorschach pattern. 'Even if he cries and makes a fuss about it, even if I must break his heart a million times over, I will do it. Because that's what _fucking_ guardians do, don't they?'

Silence lingered. Erwin kept smiling, that conceited ‘know-it-all’ smile of his.

'Letting go is not that easy, Levi. Even for you.'

Levi didn't like Erwin when the man was right (And more often than not, Erwin did tend to be right.)

Levi didn't like the rain either.

He'd never been too fond of it as a child. Neither did Farlan, for that matter. Isabel was the odd one among their group. The pig tailed girl would squat on a stranger's doorstep and sail paper boats in the puddles. Puddles that were nothing but cluster-pools of black toxic rainwater.

'Where did you even learn to make these boats, Izzie?' nineteen-year-old Farlan would ask Isabel Magnolia, pointing to her creations. The summer child of fourteen would laugh in response, her mirth bristling through the rainy afternoon. 'They're not boats, Farlan. They're armadas, origami armadas,' Isabel proclaimed. 'That's what nana likes to call them.'

Levi would snort from his perch on a window sill. At the age of twenty, he had been much leaner, wasted and could easily take refuge under a lintel and wait out these acidic downpours.

Isabel would turn a grueling eye to him. 'What is it, _hermano_?' she challenged him. 'You've got somethin' to say?'

Levi always did.

'You know what your nana should have taught you, Izzie? To cook a decent meal. This inn will go to shambles in the hands of someone who makes such a shitty cup of tea.'

Isabel's answer would be to stick her tongue out at him in that uncouth, unladylike manner of hers.

'And you will die a lonely man, _hermano_ ,' she would say, shaking her fist at him. ‘Mark my words.’

Levi would shrug and go back to sleeping. Or whatever he could call the state of being in a dream that he could never wake up from. He would hear Isabel shriek as Farlan picked up a pebble, took aim and sank one of her mighty armadas. The two used to always bicker back then, the way Petra and Oluo would. Levi could have almost sworn that Farlan liked Isabel more than he would let on. Levi had expected them to get together. But it had been fifteen years already and nothing in life went according to plan. Only the rains remained the same: cold, stinging and still black as soot.

Nothing in life went as per plan, he said to himself again.

Especially when you are married to a troublemaker.

The masked man stopped and rubbed the tail end of his sleeves over his comm, wiping away the thin sheet of water on it. The dot blinked erratically. It had been moving before, but now it stood quiet.

Close, very close.

_Where are you?_

He took off again, the soles of his boots slippery against the parapets. The grappling gun he shot out hooked him, and his feet did rest of the work. Townhouses, derelict clinics, shuttered bakeries, shady looking hostels... he didn't know how many he passed and swung over, the ratchet of the gun drowning in the pitter patter of the rain... and his heart beat.

Stupid, traitorous heart.

Never knows when to give up.

Never knows when to stop chasing the sun.

When he decided to become a ground crawler again, the Vigilante landed in an alley facing a dead end. He looked at the tracker. Yes, the brat was near, right around the corner, within arm’s reach.

But which way?

He heard banging on a door.

'Crap, the kid's locked himself in,' someone swore.

His attention snapped towards the voices. He spotted four men standing around the corner, hovering before the backdoor to a rundown shack. They were trying to force their way in, banging their fists on the glass door but to no avail.

'Let's make a run for it. We got the kidney, right?'

'We need the liver too, fathead. Get the sledgehammer. If the twerp won't come out, we'll go in and drag him out by his hair. Ozymand, you stay guard. Ya hear?'

Levi watched as the men turned to exit the alley, the goons dripping wet in the acid rain, but their thick, crocodile skins had probably become immune to it over the years. They left one man behind as watch. The one called Ozymand, a balding fellow shivering from the mist despite his jacket.

Levi wanted to chase the others down, his feet raring to pursue, to hunt them down. But their words stopped him.

_… Kid ..._

_... locked himself in..._

_... kidney, liver..._

No, for fuck's sake _no_.

The sight of a bottle in Ozymand's hands confirmed Levi's worst suspicions. The bottle had a bloody organ floating inside a chrysalis of clear liquid. The guard held it up to the streetlight, marveling at the sight of a freshly acquired kidney.

 

 

 

 

 

The man named Ozymand never saw him coming.

Not until Levi's gloved hand wrapped around his nape and slammed him into the brick wall, leaving a gash open on the man’s forehead. The glass bottle was drawn away from Ozymand's grip until Levi cradled it safe against his coat, securing the bottle in a firm hold, afraid to drop it, afraid to ruin the bloody thing floating inside. Clasping the man's head again, the Vigilante shoved the man face-first into the wall. More blood, more curses from the brute.

Answering to the cold fury running raw in his veins, Levi grabbed Ozymand's right arm and twisted it behind the man's back, pinning him to the wall. The thug howled in pain when Levi pressed the elbow harder, hearing something crunch in that poor arm of his.

But even that delicious sound couldn’t gratify the Vigilante’s bloodlust.

Tears welled up at the corners of Ozymand’s eyes. 'What the hell, you motherfucker? WHAT THE HELL ARE YA—'

Levi leaned in, hovering close to the man’s ear.

'Whose is this?' the masked man asked in a steel-cut voice. ' _Who_ did you take it from?' he demanded, holding up the glass bottle in front of the thug.

The man sputtered like a weakling. Ozymand turned freakishly pale when he caught sight of the inkblot face in the glass’s reflection. 'Shit, it’s y-you' he stuttered, eyes blown wide in terror.

'Answer my question first,' Levi urged, vitriol heavy in his tone. He slammed the man's skull against the wall again until the man began to plead for mercy.

‘Please let me go. I’ll tell you all, I swear!’

The thug whimpered, snuffling loudly and gagged against the grip on his neck. He'd heard stories about this man and what he had done to the underworld lords. To think the Vigilante would be roaming the streets today, Ozymand flinched at his horrible turn of luck.

'Whose is this?' Levi barked again. ‘Start talking.’

'S-Sorry. We took it from some brat. Brown hair. Looked like an outsider. We found him wandering around ‘ere,' the captive bleated.

Ozymand couldn't have spoken a more dangerous truth for the masked man jerked Ozymand's head back, pulling him by the skin of his scalp and threw him to the ground. The bald man lay there on the wet gravel, groaning and writhing in pain. He could feel the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. His eyes widened when he heard the flick of a knife. Ozymand found himself turned over forcibly. The man watched in horror as the Vigilante sat down on his torso and leaned over, holding a knife at the bridge of Ozymand's nose. The blade’s point stood poised between his eyes, the implication of the threat all too clear.

He couldn't read the man's expression from the inkblot mask. But there was a sinister rage in the voice that spoke from behind it. Low and restrained, but just barely.

'So, which one do you want to keep?' the Vigilante asked him.

'H—Huh?'

'Which eye do you want to keep?'

'I don't understand—'

'I am going to gouge your eye out, scum. Choose which one you want to keep.'

Ozymand paled, almost wetting himself.

'Please no. Please no, no, no—'

The masked man sneered, his glove fingers digging into Ozymand's arm. His words were savage. 'Oh, come on, chump. Don't be selfish. Didn't your mother teach you? Gotta give back what you take, right? Tit for tat. You've got two eyes. Surely, you won't miss if I take one of them. Or do you prefer it if I take an ear. Heh, I'm not choosy. An arm? Or a leg?' Levi leaned down and whispered against the man's ear, his fury making itself known. 'Make up your mind _soon_ ,' he breathed. 'Or I might just get greedy and take more than necessary.’

Ozymand gasped in horror, stuttering in his reply.

'I-I am sorry. Look, we had a deadline. And we needed the money. We were d-desperate, all of us. That's why we attacked the kid. Won't do it again, promise. Swear up-upon it. It was all for the m-money.'

The Vigilante shook his head.

'Money, huh? And that gives you the right to go around carving people and stealing their organs? Is money your justification, you nasty piece of filth?' Levi asked, his voice rising against the sound of the searing rain. 'Know something? I don't have any scruples about carving you, either. Shall I rip off your nails one by one? Or shall I chop off your tongue?'

'No,' the brute whimpered like a wounded animal, his eyes darting back and forth. 'P-Please. Let me go. I've got a wife and three kids to feed,' the bald man begged, appealing for his mercy.

Levi drew himself back, releasing the hoodlum and tossed the knife at the man's head. The blade hit the goon on the blunt side and skidded against the wet gravel. No, the Vigilante couldn't waste his breath on a lowlife like this one. Nor did he have the time to be attending to this abomination.

'Run. Never let me see your face here,' he spat, kicking the man's leg.

Ozymand nodded and got to his unsteady feet. Giving the masked man a final look of terror, he fled the alley.

Levi held the bottle close and strode over to the barricaded store. The shutters were pulled up halfway. He tried for the door, but it wouldn't budge. When he removed his gloved hands from the knob, he noticed the smear of red on them.

Blood...

 

_We got the kidney alright._

 

Levi felt sick to his bone.

_Not now._

_I need to find him first._

_Just be alive. Please._

The masked man took three steps back and rammed a shoulder into the door. The glass cracked upon impact, splintering where his shoulder met and the door rattled on its hinges. Levi stuck his foot out and kicked it open; taking deep breaths in, he walked into the tepid darkness of what seemed like a pharmacy. There were the posters of pharmaceuticals on the walls. Pill bottles, syringes, pungent smelling liquids and whatnot littered the floor. Shards of glass cracked under his feet as he walked in.

 

_Eren._

 

The name was on his lips, but he didn't know if he should call the name. He didn't want silence to answer to it. As Levi shuffled past ransacked shelves and the ruins of the counter, he heard a sound at the far back of the shop. The groan of someone in excruciating pain. It came from what looked like the store room.

He turned and began to move towards it swiftly, but stopped when he heard a war cry from behind. A familiar war cry that thrilled him to the core. Someone leaped over the counter, sliding across it and hurled himself in the direction of the masked man. Levi turned just in time because the younger man stopped mid-step, a surgical knife freezing in his hand. There was a wave of emotions on the brunet's face: from shock to amazement, but chief among them was relief. Eren was sweat drenched and shirtless, wearing a blood soaked tanktop... but he was alright, deceptively alright.

The brunet looked at him, shell-shocked. 

'Huh?' Eren blurted out at the sight of him, lowering his weapon. 'C-Captain? What're _you_ doing here?' the peacekeeper asked.

The arm of Levi that had reached for the gun in its holster dropped limp. What was he doing here? He almost laughed out loud at the dumb question. With a sigh of relief, he sunk against the pharmacy's shelves and pressed a hand to his face. Tension peeled away from his shoulders, the fury in his veins abated, and Levi felt his heart ease from the shock delivered moments ago.  

The peacekeeper studied him in concern.

'Jesus Christ, how did you even find me?' Eren asked, his blue green eyes moving from the demolished door to the masked face.

The Vigilante finally looked at him. 'You okay?' Levi asked, without answering the brat's questions. He tried to sound nonchalant about it, but his second face was already scanning Eren, flickering up and down. Frantic in their search for wounds on the youngster's body.

'Me?’ Eren blurted out incredulously, jabbing a thumb at the door. ‘Dude! You just rammed through a glass door! Plus, you are soaking wet,' Eren trailed off, his expression furrowing. It dawned on him that the masked man looked visibly agitated. 'Were you... looking for me?' Eren asked him.

'Any injuries?' the older man asked, evading his questions.

Eren scowled.

‘No, I’m fine, Captain,' he insisted.

The Vigilante gave him the once-over, not buying it.

'Any missing kidneys?'

The boy frowned at this odd question.

'Uh... no,' Eren answered.

'Missing liver?'

Eren scowled at the man. 

'No.'

'Penis?'

'No. Wait, _what_?'

Eren gave him an exasperated look and glancing down at his midriff, he realised the masked man was looking at his blood-soaked tank top. 

'Oh, this?' the boy said, bunching up the soiled fabric with his hand. 'Trust me, I'm fine. This isn't my blood. It's... Jerome's.'

Levi wasn't afforded the chance to ask who the fuck Jerome was... because Eren had walked over, caught his coat-arm and was leading him to the store room.

 

 

 

 

Jerome was apparently a teenager with curly brown hair. He was shorter, plumper and who looked nothing like Eren. And he was the one... missing a kidney. Eren hadn't caught on yet. All the young peacekeeper knew was that he had saved a kid from being mauled by bullies and taken refuge in an abandoned pharmacy.

Jerome was unconscious from the effects of anesthesia and possibly, blood loss. He would groan from the pain before falling deeper into oblivion. Levi saw the raw, stitched wound on the teenager's abdomen.

Still bleeding from the surgical cut.

Levi unrolled the bandages that Eren had fetched for him.

'So, you're telling me that you didn't fight? You ran for cover instead?' Levi asked as Eren sat down on the dusty floor beside him.

Eren looked up at the masked man and nodded hesitantly.

'I'm sorry, alright. I didn't know where the hospital was... I was pretty lost myself. I was with Magnum one moment and—'

'I'm going to kill Magnum when I get back,' Levi muttered under his breath.

'What?' Eren asked.

'Nothing,' Levi said quickly.

He rolled the gauze around the wound and turned his masked face to Eren.

'Besides, kid, what the hell are you apologising for? You did the right thing.'

Silence filled the space between them, Eren rendered surprised by those words. Eren watched the man in the trench coat, his feelings about the stranger turning conflicted. He watched as the Vigilante cleared the wound with a medicated strip of cotton and then, began wrapping the bandages around the teenager's abdomen. The first run of bandages soaked, turning bloody at once, so the masked man had to discard them and reach for more. 

'Really?' Eren echoed, looking at Jerome and noting how pale the boy had become. 'You don't think I should have fought them?'

Levi shook his head.

'You prioritized someone else's life before yours. That's commendable.'

Eren froze.

'Yeah?'

Levi nodded his masked face and caught Eren looking at him in stark surprise.

'What is it?' he asked.

Eren’s eyes turned shifty. He looked away, his ears flushed red.

'N-nothing,' he said. 'You just sounded like someone I used to know.'

'Who?'

Eren didn't answer him, careful in avoiding the man's gaze. The peacekeeper returned his attention to Jerome's wounds. Eren Jaeger sat quiet as he watched the Vigilante work, watching the man clean the wound a second time. The brunet swallowed the knot in his throat as a dull ache throbbed in his chest. He knew what this feeling was. Remorse. Because he'd seen the Vigilante's hands kill a bountyhunter before, choking the life out of that sleazebag Perenti... and now these very same hands were trying to save a person's life-- gentle, patient and careworn in their efforts. Had it been his own prejudice to pigeonhole this man as a cold-blooded murderer? Could Eren have misjudged him? 

He blinked at the thought.

'You're really good at first-aid, huh?' Eren finally remarked, feeling a little guilty for all those names he'd called the man.

The Vigilante wrapped another round of bandages around the unconscious teenager. 

'Force of habit,' he said with a shrug.

'Habit?' echoed Eren.

'Yes. I had this kid who was always getting hurt.'

'A kid?' said Eren.

The Vigilante returned a small nod.

Eren watched him for a pensive moment, his expression inscrutable.

'You mean your son?' the boy offered after a long-drawn pause. 

Levi froze, his hands stopped working and he cringed.

'Fuck, _no_.'

Eren bit his tongue at the sharp rebuke and realised he'd offended the man somehow.

'Jeez. Sorry, alright?' Eren said, withdrawing to a corner and wincing at the mistake. 'Izzie said you were fifty years old so I kinda assumed you were talking about your son.'

The masked man stilled. Levi looked at Eren and scowled behind his mask.

'Izzie said _what_?' he demanded.

A shadow of confusion passed over Eren’s face. 

'That you're fifty. Hold on... you _aren't_?'

The masked man went painfully quiet as he tucked the passed-out 'Jerome' into a better position. A position that he hoped would curb the blood loss. Levi made a silent note to himself, adding the name Isabel Magnolia to the list of people he needed to kill when he got back to the inn. Of course, that wouldn't be fair to the child she was carrying to term so he decided to forgive her. Just this time.

Eren Jaeger seemed stuck on the dispute regarding the Vigilante's age. 

'So, if you’re not fifty, dude. How old _are_ you? Really?' Eren asked, suspicion lacing his tone.

Moving away from Eren's field of view, the masked man peeled off the disposable gloves and wore his own bloody ones again. 

When he was done, the Vigilante turned to Eren and wondered how he ought to respond. He chose the best answer he could come up with. 

'Hm, I’m _sweet_ sixteen,’ he announced, the smirk evident in his new voice.

There was a brief pause.

Eren watched him long and then rolled his eyes.

'Yeah, right,’ the boy griped despite stifling a smile. ‘I will take Izzie's word over yours. You are definitely a dirty old man.'

 

 

 

* * *

 


	60. Body Soul

 

Chapter-60- Body Soul

~.~

 

Back in the inn of Chromium Shark, a blond boy emerged out of the bath, having spent the last few hours cleansing his body and scrubbing the layer of goo off him. He felt merrier, chipper and as he walked downstairs, whistling the tune of Vivaldi's Four Seasons under his breath, it occurred to him that the inn was quiet. Quieter than he'd ever remembered it to be.

The silence didn’t bode well. He poked his head into the dining hall but found no one there, not a single living soul. The telescreen was running on mute, but nobody was around to catch the latest episode of 'Desperate Husbands'. There were no signs of his friends either. Not a trace of the innkeeper or the other aides of the Masked Vigilante. Chromium Shark was empty.

'Uh, hello? Anyone here?' Armin hollered into the silence. 'Eren? Jean?'

No answer.

'Marco?'

Silence met his ears.

'Creepy masked dude?'

The inn remained spookily quiet.

The young man from Earth glared at the barren walls, going tense as a piano wire. Realising that he’d been left home alone, Armin Arlert couldn’t help but panic a little. What happened? Did the guys return to Earth leaving him behind? Or was this another of Jean, the prankster's tricks? No, Armin tried to reason. The guys must be out on an errand. Yes, no need to get alarmed.

Forcing himself to have a little more faith in his friends, the saint returned to their common room and sought out his backpack. He emptied the contents over his bunk until the mattress was sprawling with a motley of things he’d brought over from home:  his music pod, the dead mobile phone, a pack of chewing gum, term assignments and of course, the remains of a robotic dog. It was this last item that caught his attention. Armin unravelled the droid from its bubble wrap and drew a screwdriver out from his bag. Settling on the floor of Chromium Shark, his legs crossed, brows drawn in concentration, he busied himself with the repair.

'Looks like it's just you and me, Krobe,' Armin mumbled into the quiet.

The droid dog lay supine on the mattress.

'That's your name, isn't it?'

Again, the mutt didn’t respond.

Armin sighed, turning despondent. He propped the flap to its underbelly open and as he tinkered around, marvelling at the circuitry inside, Armin wondered if he could even understand its working, let alone fix the alien machine. _Steady hands, steady results,_ he murmured to himself. Looking out the window, the saint wondered where the hell everyone was. And why did they leave him behind.

 

 

 

 

Levi held the bottle up against the storeroom's light. The glass was hypothermic to the touch, and he could hear the rhythm of a tiny perfusion pump working within the chrysalis. How long had it been since the kidney had been harvested from the body? From the way the teenager was turning pale with every tic, from the way Jerome's breathing grew shallow and his complexion sickly yellow, Levi knew they were running out of time.

Eren poked his head through the doorway of the store room.

'I checked outside. Coast is clear,' he reported.

'What about the rain?' Levi asked, voice sounding gruff as he avoided the brunet's eye and kept a watch over the injured.

'Sky’s overcast. But it’s stopped raining. Should we leg it, Captain?'

Levi paused for a small moment.

There it was. That strange word again.

_Captain._

Not Corporal. Not 'sir' either. Those old titles were familiar to him. But 'Captain' felt bizarre. It was funny how a single word could make him feel like an outright stranger. And what else did he expect? For Eren to call him by his given name? Rivaille? Levi? Did he really want the headstrong idiot to recognize him… after all this trouble of keeping his identity under wraps?

No.

So, Captain, he shall be.

For eternity, if need be.

Nodding to himself, he drew assurance from both the shroud and the voice modulator strapped to the inside of his mouth. These ill-contraptions were all that separated Eren from the truth. A truth that the guardian intended to preserve less he die trying. He reached into his coat and drew out a totem. He fiddled with it, resetting the old map and querying for a new target on its grid. When he was done, he held out the device to Eren, who gave the instrument a quizzical glance.

‘What’s this?’ Eren asked, accepting it gingerly.

'You need to get your friend professional help,' Levi said, keeping his words calm and neutral... which was difficult at a time like this. There was the pain in his jaw, pain from the anger directed at society and at the beasts that ran amok in it. He glanced at Eren, mask ever-changing in its patterns, and resumed his instructions. 'The closest medical outpost is a missionary hospital. Half a block from here. The totem will lead you right to it. And when you reach the medics, give this to them—'

Levi held out the glass bottle.

Eren stared at the chrysalis, at the organ floating inside and realised just what it was. The peacekeeper recoiled, looking from Jerome to the glass bottle held in the Vigilante’s hand, going pale.

'Shit. Is that—is that… a kidney?' he asked, eyes blown wide.

'Yes, it's a kidney. Grow up, will you?' Levi reprimanded him. 'It belongs to your friend here. Those men you rescued him from were organ traders.'

Levi caught the disgust on the boy’s face.

The masked man let out a scoff.

‘Do you get it now?’ he asked. ‘What kind of place this is? What else did you expect when you came here, PeaceCorp? A picnic in a park? This is Maria, kid. The subpar. There are no saints here, just demons. Demons like the men who took this boy’s kidney…' he paused, balling his fingers into a fist. 'And demons like me with blood on our hands. Welcome to hell, Earthborn, welcome to the very bowels of hell.’

He stopped to gauge the younger man's face.

Eren had gone quiet and was watching him. He didn't look intimidated. Nor did he offer an argument. The keeper looked like he wanted to, but Eren bit his tongue and kept quiet.

Levi accepted his silence and looked at their injured.

'Well then,' said the Vigilante. 'Since we've got that cleared up, take the kid and leave. The longer we stall, the worse his condition gets.’

The masked man held out the glass bottle again.

This time Eren gave a nod and accepted it. Handling the apparatus with care and tucking it in the nook of his elbow, the young man strode over to the injured teenager and caught the boy's arm. He began hauling the adolescent over his shoulder.

'And you, Captain?' Eren inquired. He opted to leave the glass bottle on the floor, picking it up at the very end when he had the teenager secure on his back. Jerome barely stirred, his body feverish, breathing coming in gasps and groans. Eren sincerely hoped all this rough handling wouldn't open Jerome’s wounds again.

'Hm?' the Vigilante said in nonchalance, as he crossed the threshold of the store room and headed for the drug shelves.

'I mean… what about you, Captain?' wheezed Eren, his eyes glued to the back of the masked man. ‘What’re you gonna do?’

Levi fiddled with his trench coat and examined the fabric. He was glad to find it drying already.

'Me? Well, I have an appointment with a few bloodsucking leeches. They’ll be back soon, and they deserve a proper welcome party, don't they?' the masked man posed the question in a dangerously low voice.

Eren stared at him, looking concerned.

'Wait. You're doing this _alone_? You're taking on those organ traders by _yourself_?'

Granted from what little Eren had seen of the man’s prowess, the Vigilante didn’t seem to require any backup.

Levi smirked as he walked to the foyer of the pharmacy. The young peacekeeper followed him, breathless under the burden of two.

'That’s the plan,' the Vigilante said as he checked the litter on the floor. He picked up bottles, reading the labels and tossing them astray. 'Why? You worried about me?'

‘No, not worried—’ Eren shifted uneasily, fixing the teenager's head over his shoulder and with a sigh, he slogged a path to the front door, all while carrying Jerome over his back. 'But,' Eren sighed. ‘—even dirty old men need looking out for,' said the brunet, a smile flitting across his lips in humour. 'Besides…'

Levi looked at him.

'Besides?' the masked man prompted.

'You were searching for me, weren't you?' Eren trailed, his smile widening. 'You were worried about me, huh? You're not really a demon. Don't fool yourself into thinking that, Captain.'

The man in the trench coat stared at him, ink blot frozen in its pattern.

Levi pursed his lips behind the mask. He let slip a smile. A begrudging smile at the brat's cheekiness and… those warm words. It was a smile the young man couldn't ever see, Levi reminded himself. With a curt wave of his hand, Levi urged the peacekeeper to hurry up and get moving.

He watched as the youngster ducked through the remains of the entrance and slipped out.

Before the boy could disappear, Levi called for him.

'Eren.’

The peacekeeper halted in surprise and turned towards him.

'What?' the boy said. ‘What’s wrong, Captain?’

They stared at each other in the silence of the abandoned pharmacy. The silence heavy between them from the weight of unsaid words. From the weight of each other's secrets. The masked man looked long at Eren before he swallowed whatever he had meant to say. The Vigilante shook his head.

'Nothing,' was all he said.

Eren was left confounded. This was the first time that the Captain had called Eren by his name. And now, the cryptic man was back to ignoring him. Eren Jaeger didn’t know what to make of him. However, acutely aware of the boy injured on his back, the peacekeeper nodded and raised a hand. Giving the Vigilante a mock salute and a grin, Eren turned and left to do his sworn duty.

 

 

 

 

The young peacekeeper darted down a wet road, his gaze fixed on the totem. A hologram map projected out of it, showing him the medical outpost. His sneakers splashed through puddles of water, and he stumbled twice in his steps. But despite the struggle, Eren never let Jerome fall. Nor did he let the bottle with the kidney slip out of his grasp. He didn't understand how but the Captain's device seemed to know exactly where he was. Eren assumed it was something akin to a GPS in his own world. The map was leading him to a small cross; it blinked, urging him to hurry.

It was challenging to run with a body sprawled on his back. And Eren was hit with nostalgia. He had memories of carrying Annie through the interstellar tunnel. Before the woman tried to kill him, of course.

Annie’s ambush had been the domino to trigger the chain reaction. Eren did wonder sometimes. If Annie hadn't betrayed him that day, if she hadn't told him about that file in Trost Repository, would things have turned out differently? Would he still have been chasing Levi?

_Eren._

There was that voice again.

But for the first time, it wasn't Levi's.

His heart was racing, and it wasn't just from the adrenalin. To be honest, his heart had been racing for quite some time now. And he was trying hard to ignore that feeling.

_Eren._

He remembered the first time he’d felt this way. This mild pain in his chest. A desire to erase the distance between him and someone else, a total loss of all his inhibitions. He’d been a teenager back then, every part of him set aflame by that foul-mouthed guardian of his.

Eren didn’t realise he’d been holding his breath. He exhaled, letting his breath leave him and turned furious with himself. He tried to clamp down on that voice, to make it go away and to ignore the shifty feeling in his heart.

All the creep had done was speak Eren's name.

And yet… And yet, why did it sound so achingly familiar?

'Crossroads in love,' the gypsy had told him.

Crossroads in love?

Heck no, Eren vowed.

No way, he decided firmly. There were no crossroads here. None, zilch, nada! There was only one road, and it led to Levi.

… right?

He heard a groan from behind him.

Eren scowled, drowning those adulterous thoughts in his head.

_C’mon, Eren. Concentrate. You've got an injured man. This is no time to be validating your love horoscope, dude._

'Sorry, Jerome,' he told the wounded teenager on his back. 'Hang on, we're almost there.'

Cuddling the glass bottle with all his life (Eren never thought he'd be cuddling someone's kidney before, but here he was, doing exactly that), the brunet dashed along a cobblestone path. And as he ran, he felt that familiar, intoxicating rush of freedom. He remembered Annie, he remembered his oath as a PeaceCorp and he remembered that one man— his mentor, his guardian and his husband.

A peacekeeper bound to serve and protect till death.

Honourable, loyal and to live for others before self.

That is our blood oath.

'Don't give up,' Eren vowed to his charge, his breath coming short. 'We're going to make it, buddy. Hang on.'

 

 

 

 

 

Three men sat on the floor tied to each other, subdued, sporting black eyes and welts on their head. Levi circled them and made an appreciative hum at his ropework. He reached into his coat and drew out the supplies. Bottles filled to the brim, a pungent smelling liquid swooshing in them.

'Know what the great thing about a pharmacy is?' the Vigilante asked, his smirk evident in that unnatural, cold voice.

The men shook their heads.

'So many flammable compounds,' the masked man answered. 'Fuel good for a nice, cozy bonfire,' he emphasized.

Levi unscrewed the lids open and doused the men with the liquid. The men flinched. While the Vigilante discarded the bottles to the floor, letting them join the litter of the pharmacy.

The thugs shivered. The three men looked up at him, their collective horror reflected in their eyes.

Levi chuckled at their expressions.

'Know what's great about my coat?' he asked them next.

The men shook their heads again.

Levi rummaged through his pockets. 'You can keep a lot of stuff in here. A handkerchief... for hygiene, you know. Especially when dealing with sewage like yourselves. A torch, my gun,' he caught the alarm on their faces. 'Oh, don't worry. I've got something better for you. Ancient remedy, you know,' he drew out a lighter and flicked it.

The masked man hunkered down and hovered before their faces. He held out the little flame.

'The age-old way of dealing with wild beasts. Fire.'

He sunk down and brought the flame to the gaunt face of a thug. The man cringed, shuffling backwards, limbs quaking in fear.

Levi turned amused.

'Scared already? I haven't even started yet. Aren't you curious to know what it'd be like? To be burnt alive? Your flesh, bones, fat, burning until you’re nothing but a charred stain on the floor.'

The men balked and launched into their pleas.

'Don't hurt us! We're just pawns! The people above us call the shots—'

‘He’s right! We’re just told the requirements and we hunt down the targets.’

'We'll do anything. Let us go!' they beseeched him. ‘Please!’

The inkblot face considered them over the flame of the lighter.

'Anything, huh?'

He flicked the lighter close.

'All I need is the name of your master. Someone’s running the trade. Who’s at the top in your chain of command?'

The men looked at each other and hesitated, clearly wanting to withhold that information.

Levi sighed.

'I wasn’t persuasive enough. Maybe, you _do_ want to be burnt alive. And who am I to deny your death wish…'

The men shook their heads and gave in.

'No, please no. Moloch. It's… Moloch, alright!'

There was a pause.

'Moloch?' Levi repeated the name in disdain.

 

 

 

 

The nurse at the missionary hospital turned sour when she saw him. Granted, Levi's eerie mask had that effect on most people. They knew him by name and by sight, but they didn’t have high regards for someone of his violent tendencies.

'Vigilante,' she said, greeting him with the stiff upper lip. 'How nice of you to visit! The hospital would appreciate it if you’d stop filling our wards. We like to be sent flowers, sir, and not wounded men. Do you realise how many folks have walked in with broken bones, teeth, ever since you got here? We’re a charitable organization; we’re not a full-fledged, bubble city hospital—'

Levi held up a gloved hand to silence her.

'Apologies,' he snapped. 'But I don't want to listen to how inept your shitty clinic is,' Levi looked down the hallway, searching for a face. 'I sent someone earlier,' he said, looking past her shoulder towards the intensive care unit. 'A victim of organ trafficking. I believe his name was Jerome. How’s he?' Levi asked her.

The nurse turned quiet, her face going solemn.

'We just sent the body in for autopsy.'

Levi looked at her sharp.

'Autopsy?'

'Yes,' the nurse said. 'He didn't make it, I’m afraid. The boy showed a history of hypertension, and it was aggravated by the blood clot. We couldn’t detect a pulse when he arrived,' the woman bit her lip, looking apologetic. 'I'm sorry but there was nothing we could do. He was pronounced dead upon arrival.'

Levi said little.

What could he say? Words couldn't bring back the dead. He clenched his fingers into a ball, looked down and cast a disparaging glance at his gloves. They were still stained red. Levi felt that old urge to clean again, to set things in order when everything else was spiralling out of control, but he resisted, knowing how it was just his nerves acting up.

Another soul lost.

Thanks to inadequate facilities? Or thanks to the allies he’d chosen?

Whose fault was it?

Was it his?

Levi scowled behind his second face.

He turned to the nurse.

'Where's the one who brought him in?'

'The young man who carried the victim? He left by the emergency exit.'

'Which way?' Levi asked.

The nurse pointed out a glass door at the end of the hallway.

Levi didn't thank her and took to the direction she’d pointed out.

It wasn't difficult to find Eren this time. The peacekeeper didn’t wander far from the missionary hospital. The boy was sitting on the hood of an abandoned jeep, the vehicle parked under the canopy of an old shed.

Burying his hands into his pockets, Levi walked over quietly and took the spot beside him.

Eren didn't acknowledge his presence. He didn't seem to be paying attention to anything around him. Sitting on the hood of the jeep, the young man had one knee propped up and an arm looped around it. He kept his head perched on the elbow. His tank top looked like a rag dyed the colour red. Dirt was smudged across his chin and forehead, which he wiped at carelessly.

'I guess you heard, huh?' Eren said, his voice distraught. 'Jerome… he didn’t make it.'

Levi said nothing.

The older man graced a look at the overcast sky. The hues of dark blue looked as angry as the boy beside him. Like clouds of turmoil ready to burst at any given moment. Ready to go ballistic. There was the distant rumble of thunder and sulphurous clouds creeping in.

'It's my fault, isn't it?' Eren ventured to ask. 'If I had been quicker, if I hadn't made the wrong choice back then...'

Levi shook his head.

'Not your fault. Don't beat yourself over it, kid,’ he said, scratching his nape. ‘Shit happens. You deal with it and move on.'

At those ill-chosen words, the peacekeeper whirled around, looking at him aghast.

'Shit happens?' Eren repeated, lips curling. 'A man just died under your watch, Vigilante, and you say _shit happens_. Some _fucking_ hero you are!'

His face contorting in disgust, Eren slid off the hood of the vehicle and picking a random direction, he stormed out of the masked man’s company.

So much for an uplifting speech.

Levi sighed and followed him, keeping close behind.

The outburst had surprised Levi. But he’d expected nothing else from the boy. Because even after all these years, Eren was still incapable of coping with defeat. The boy wasn't angry with Levi. The peacekeeper was furious with himself, disappointed with his loss. And Levi suspected that it was Eren's persistence, his dogged nature, which made the losses even more unbearable. Levi could imagine this streak appearing in Eren’s formative years. He’d seen mothers encouraging their children at the jungle gym. If they fell once, the mother would keep urging the child to try again and again. And if they fell at the third try, the child would give up and bawl their eyes out, yearning for their mother’s sympathy. But Eren— no, this brat would undoubtedly have given Carla hell, Levi thought amusedly. The boy would have refused to part with the jungle gym until he could climb it right. Even if Eren had to stay the whole night in a goddam park. Even if the boy was afraid of the darkness, scared shitless and tired from trying too much, he would still stick around and get the job done.

That was Eren Jaeger for you.

Levi’s words to Farlan had not been made lightly. Levi knew. He knew what the boy could handle and what he couldn’t. He knew all that Eren liked. From Oreos, tacos, oceans… to baseball, his eternal love for comic heroes and those ear-bleeding rock music that he listened to— things Levi had no clue about. The grey eyed man was also aware of Eren's vulnerabilities.

His mother.

The darkness.

Fear of failure.

And the fear of being alone.

Because Levi paid attention. No matter what Isabel and Farlan said, he did pay attention to this radioactive husband of his. Because these eight years had meant something to him too.

He watched Eren halt in his tracks.

The boy looked visibly unnerved. 'Stop following me,' Eren growled back, shunning him from sight. 'Leave me alone. _Please_.'

The Vigilante sighed.

'I’m not sure what you were expecting when you came here, kid,' he finally spoke out. 'This place is called Maria by name. But like I told you before. This is hell. There’s no law and order here. No justice. People will die, and you'll watch them die… because at the end of the day, you can't save _everyone._ Neither you nor me, that’s the truth. Learn to accept it,’ Levi ended the tirade by flicking a speck of dust from his sleeve. ‘Your friend Jerome was probably an orphan caught at a bad place, at a bad time. And it was his own shitty luck that he died _alone_.'

There was a tense silence.

'An orphan,' he heard Eren repeat. ‘An orphan, huh?’

‘Yes.’

The peacekeeper stood frozen in his steps, silent as the grave.

Levi walked over to the boy, perturbed by his silence. When he reached the brunet's side, Levi hazarded a glance at Eren's face.

A familiar sight awaited the Vigilante.

A hauntingly beautiful sight he hadn't seen for a long time.

The sight of tears.

And with a final rumble, the sky over Maria joined Eren as he cried.

 

 

 

 

Lugging the young man under the awning of a butcher's had not been easy. Eren fought hard, refusing to come along. But the masked man gave one last growl at which the peacekeeper ceased protesting. Eren let himself be dragged under the cover of canvas as the rain came pouring down for the second time in Maria.

Eren Jaeger, troublemaker extraordinaire, kept to the ring of the awning, glaring furiously at the acid rain. The tears continued to stream down his face, washing down grime and specks of crusted blood, and Levi heard a sniffle break out every now and then.

The masked man gave a restive sigh and wiped away the rain drops clinging to his coat. He gave Eren a fleeting look.

'Care to tell me. Why are you crying?'

Eren pressed a hand to his eyes, willing the tears to stop.

'It doesn't concern you.’

‘You’re under my wing now. So yes, it does concern me.’

The brunet rolled his shoulders violently and snapped at him.

‘Fuck off. Go away. This doesn't concern you at all.'

Levi bit back a smile. Braving the weather, he walked to the edge of the awning and held a hand out in the rain. He let the rain pool in his glove— the water wasn’t blackish anymore. He withdrew the hand and considered Eren in the silence.

'Trust me, earthling. Everything about you concerns me. While I do have places to be, since it's raining, I’m afraid that we are stuck here together. Might as well chit-chat,’ he gave Eren a sidelong glance. ‘So, what’s the matter with you?’

The brunet shook his head and refused to reveal his reasons.

'Fuck you,' the young man cursed under his breath. ‘Why do I have to tell you anything?’

Levi sighed. He returned to the meat shop and leaned against the shutters of its entrance. He watched Eren through his second face, trying to discern what the tears were about. 'Is this about what I said? Did it hurt? Did I get to you? I’m not going to apologize for it. Because it's the truth, kid. Life is dangerous here in the subpar. People _die_ here. You and your friends risked too much by coming this far. Take my advice. Cut your losses, call it even and return. To wherever you came from.'

His advice wasn’t well-received.

'I’m NOT leaving!' Eren exploded, his voice deep and filled with emotion. 'Not until I finish what I came here to do! Not until I find _him_!' he said over the downpour.

The Vigilante turned silent.

And how was he supposed to counter _this_ kind of an argument?

He turned to the youngster and noticed that Eren's shoulders were shaking. The brunet brought up a hand— a trembling hand – raked it through his hair and let out a strangled laugh. 'And you're wrong, sir. No one deserves to die alone. Everyone has a family; people who are going to miss you if you're gone. You talk big because you have no idea what it's like to be on the other side. Trust me, I've been there and it's not a great place to be. There is only remorse,' his voice broke as he said this. ‘So much remorse.’

The ink blot pattern changed on the face of the masked man. But the Vigilante didn't say anything.

Eren resumed, words faltering at times.

'You know what was the last thing I said to him?' Eren asked him, sniffing as he studied the sleet of rain outside. 'That he didn't have a heart. That's the kind of asshole I am… If he did crash out there, if he did die out there in the desert all alone, imagine that's the last thing he would remember. Me calling him a heartless bastard. That guy… That jerk. He was an orphan too, you know. He didn't have anyone either. I was his only family, and I fucking _abandoned_ him. I’m worse than—'

Eren didn't finish because a gloved hand caught his shoulder, and he found himself pulled into an embrace.

He didn't know when the masked man had unbuttoned his coat but here he was, pulled into the enclosure of the man's arms, the trench coat stretched over both men.

'L-Let me go,' Eren breathed, eyes blinking in surprise. 'I don't need your pity.'

He tried to wriggle out, but the hand on his shoulder urged him to stay put. 'Just saving you from the rain. You were shivering,' the Vigilante remarked, voice feigning indifference.

And despite the lack of emotion in the man's voice, Eren noticed the Adam's apple bob behind the cravat. It occurred to Eren that the Vigilante looked as uncomfortable as he was. Rolling his eyes, the young peacekeeper gave in to the stranger's kindness. 'Thanks,' he admitted belatedly.

Because that was all the Vigilante could ever be.

A kind stranger.

Levi knew that.

There were some advantages to this height. For the first time, he could press his temple against Eren's. For a short moment, there were many heartbeats. He could hear it in their chests— his calm while Eren's feverish, and then, there was the slower pulse throbbing in their temples, following close after their hearts. Levi shifted slightly, pressing his shrouded nose to Eren's messy brown hair, burying it in those wet strands. His sense of smell was diminished, and Levi wondered if Eren carried the same scent as before. Like foliage, like wet sand after the first rains. Intoxicating. Sweet. Sweaty. The younger's shoulders were tense, and Levi could relate. A part of Levi— a small, quiet part of him— wanted Eren to see him for who he was. But the greater part of him was angry—angry at this desolate world around them, angry with himself for being unable to cut away completely and furious with Eren for returning, for getting caught up in this mess. For letting himself get swept in a stranger's arms as well. The brat didn't play fair at all.

There was a third side to the Vigilante as well.

It was the guardian hiding behind this mask.

Rushing to the brat's rescue without a second thought.

And Levi hated this weak side of him the most, because it was this lonely guardian who was most vulnerable to the charms and wiles of a certain Eren Jaeger. When the whole world looked upon Levi as either a hero or a foe, Eren remained the only one still fretting over him.

 

_I’ll give you everything I can give and accept everything I can take. Now, will you marry me, asshole?_

 

Levi smiled at the memory.

_You kept your end of the bargain._

_But I didn't._

The masked man turned to his right, steering clear of the face that rested on his shoulder.

_Don't hear his breathing. Don't speak to him. And most importantly, don't look at him._

Except his attention caught the glint of metal. His glance darted down to the one thing he wished he could have ignored. The key around Eren's neck. And there was that brutal reminder again. That this boy was from a world far away and sure, they’d made this relationship work in the past… but not anymore. There was no going back to #1263. The bridges had been burnt.

He would only be a guardian. And he would have to live with that.

When he pulled back a little, he caught Eren watching him.

'Can I ask you something?' the peacekeeper asked suddenly.

Levi gave him a curt nod.

'How do you breathe through that?' the young man asked, pointing to the mask.

Levi suppressed a smile at the boyish curiosity.

He brought his gloved hand to Eren's brown head and reeled him in closer if it were possible. The younger stiffened from the abrupt move.

'Find out for yourself,' Levi urged in a soft whisper.

Eren's blue green eyes looked warily at him.

It took a long moment for the headstrong young man to accept the challenge. His eyebrows drawing into a crease, Eren pressed his forehead against the masked man's. Rendered thus at the same height and huddled face-to-face, he brought up his left hand and traced the contour of the nose. Ginger and hesitating, his thumb outlined the bridge of the nose, then dipped, and the young man pressed against the spot where he assumed the nostrils were. He poked around the region.

And he discovered it.

The passage of air through the shroud. In and out. In and out.

Signs that this masked man was real and hadn't jumped out of a comic book.

'Cool,' Eren whispered with a smirk.

But the smirk dissolved when he realised how close they were. Eren’s skin turned flushed, his eyes shone and glossed over. His finger lowered further until Levi could feel the digit on his lips.

And here, Eren's touch felt like home.

Levi felt a collective shiver run down both their skins. Nerve endings stirred up and tingled at this slightest touch.

And for a moment, they forgot about the rain. They stared at each other in the warmth of a trench coat, forgotten by the universe and forgotten by the roles they were supposed to play. Levi felt the last of the barriers breaking, and it came down with a hard crash.

There was a voice in his head now, egging Eren on. To recognize him. To peel away the mask. And to fucking kiss him right there where Eren’s thumb was, leaving its ghostly impressions.

And before either of them could do anything about it … a whistle pierced the air, sounding over the rain.

Eren snapped out of his trance. He pulled back, drawing out of the embrace, away from the trench coat, away from the masked man. The boy looked bewildered with himself.

'Jean,' the peacekeeper announced in a quiet voice, eyes blinking hard to regain some ounce of clarity. 'That's Jean. I should… go.'

Eren turned around and shaking his head furiously, he left the cover of the awning. He braved the searing rain and broke into a jog towards the whistle. His heart thundered in his chest, and he castigated himself for what he almost did. And for what he didn't do.

_What was that, Eren?_

_What the hell was that?_

But the farther he walked, the stronger was the itch to turn back and retrace the steps. When he was halfway down the road, answering to Jean’s whistle with a croak of his own, Eren finally mustered the courage to look back. He turned towards the Vigilante and found the man right where Eren had left him. Standing under the awning of the butcher's.

And he was still watching Eren.

 

_So I would have had him leave,_  
_So he would have left_  
_As the soul leaves the body torn and bruised,_  
_As the mind deserts the body it has used._  
_I should find_  
_Some way incomparably light and deft,_  
_Some way we both should understand._

La Figlia Che Piange, T. S. Eliot

 

 

* * *

 


	61. Extra Terrestrial

 

 

Chapter-61- Extra Terrestrial

~.~

 

Eren’s gaze flitted around the room, never settling on a person or object for long. His turbulent thoughts kept him aloof. Two days had passed since the peacekeeper returned to Chromium Shark, stained in blood and tears. His best friend didn’t take well to the sight of him. After assuring Armin that it wasn't his own blood soaking his clothes and fielding every question on why Eren's eyes were red and swollen, the peacekeeper locked himself in the confines of their room. He avoided company for the next two days, going to bed early and waking up late. He burrowed himself under the covers especially when the others were up, awake and milling about. He couldn't face their questions. Sleep was elusive at best. The guys' conversation didn't stir him either. Nor did hunger, the need to shower or the pile of unwashed clothes. Even Jean's taunts couldn't draw him out of his cocoon; nor could Marco's gentle attempts.

It all came down to Armin to pull him out of this state of lassitude.

And much to his own surprise, Armin Arlert reprised his role as the casserole delivery guy. The blond sighed as he knocked on the door to their common room.

'Eren!’ he hollered from outside. ‘I brought you dinner! You decent?'

There was no answer.

Armin counted to three before rapping his knuckles against the door again.

'C’mon, slacker. I know you're in there,' he said.

The silence stretched until a voice spoke up.

'Yeah, I’m decent.'

The blond pushed the door ajar and slipped into the chequered shade of their lodging. It took Armin a good moment to get his vision adjusted to the semi-darkness and when he did, he spotted Eren sitting in a corner of Marco's bunk, his knee propped up under an elbow. Armin’s best friend was staring out the window, his expression vacant. Dressed in slacks and a wrinkled pyjama top, the young keeper remained withdrawn, his hands gripping his bare upper arm. Eren looked subdued and almost... guilty?

Armin waddled over to the mattress and sat down at one end. He’d left the door open, hoping that the sounds of people and laughter would be a good enough rouse to encourage Eren out of hiding. And there was indeed a lot of ruckus going on below. Much to Jean's embarrassment, Marco was narrating the tale of the Latin Llama to their hosts, and dinner conversation had turned unexpectedly into a full scale laughing riot. The whole inn reverberated with howls of laughter and camaraderie.

Except Eren wasn't there.

Armin wasn't the only one who noticed his best friend's gaping absence.

The blond saw the Vigilante sitting in a corner, passing a fleeting glance at the stairwell more than a couple of times Considering how everyone else living in Chromium Shark was assembled in the dining room, the masked creep could only have been waiting for one guy— the same guy who was currently sulking in this room like Achilles in his tent.

The gods gifted Armin with a natural intelligence, and it didn't take long for the whiz kid to put two and two together. Something had happened between the two. But what, he couldn’t tell.

The blond cleared his throat and studied Eren in the hazy light of the room. 'You've got everyone worried. Are you planning to return to human society any time soon?' Armin asked as he propped the lid of the casserole open. Isabel had carved out a generous serving of dragon chicken inside. (Armin refrained from asking her what exactly the mutated bird was). Jeez, if sulking could get a better menu on his palette, Armin considered throwing a tantrum himself.

Eren made no move to accept the food.

The saint studied Eren in the shadows.

'So, what's bothering you?' Armin asked in a soft voice.

'Nothing,' said Eren all too quickly.

A blatant lie.

'...right,' Armin humoured him with a roll of his blue eyes. 'Talk to me, idiot. Out with it. There's no reason to keep secrets anymore, right? What's bothering you?'

There was a flicker in the brunet's gaze as he mulled over Armin's words. Eren took a deep breath but didn't come any closer to divulging his secrets. Armin frowned and snapped his fingers in front of his best friend's face.

'You got haemorrhoids or somethin'? Is that why you're too embarrassed to talk to any of us?'

Eren gave a brittle smile.

'No, I’m alright,’ he confessed.

'Really?'

'Yeah, totally. I'm fine.'

Armin didn’t buy it.

'Like hell you are. Did Jean say something mean again?' Armin asked him, keeping the boy under scrutiny. 'If he did, I will make jerkface apologize—'

Eren shook his head quickly.

Armin clicked his tongue in wonder. ‘Alright. Then, did something happen between you and that... masked dude?'

There was a tentative pause, and Eren blinked in discomfort, averting his gaze. Armin's suspicions grew deeper.

'Yes or no?' Armin prodded.

Eren swallowed hard.

'Uh... maybe?'

Armin looked at his friend in surprise. The peacekeeper brought an arm to his face and let his chin perch on it. He was still looking out the window, folded in his corner and studying Maria's landscape vacantly. The awkwardness lingered.

'What happened then? He said something to piss you off?' asked Armin.

A hollow smile flitted across Eren's lips. The peacekeeper's shoulders sagged, and he leaned back against the wall. 'Anything and everything that comes out of that guy's mouth pisses me off, Armin,' Eren admitted in the silence. 'From the way he keeps putting me down, telling me how I’m not cut out for this world… to the way he preaches as if he were my dad, pretending he doesn't care about humanity but in truth, he does. And to the way he says my name. _Everything_ about him pisses me off, Armin.'

The blond looked up at his friend sharply, expression furrowed.

'Wait. Name?’ he echoed. ‘What's that got to do—'

And Armin noticed it then. All the signs. Eren was biting on his lower lip, one hand scratching his nape and Armin didn’t need to be a genius to figure out what was going on.

'I don't _believe_ it. I don't _effin’_ believe it,’ he bleated. ‘You're smitten by that creep?'

Eren glanced up at the blond boy in chagrin.

'Don't be ridiculous.'

The blond stood up, disbelief etched on every feature. He put up his hands in air, gesturing wildly between them.

'I’m the one being ridiculous?' Armin echoed with a frown.

Eren wished he had never brought up the subject. He tilted his head, gave a low sigh and looked out the window again, perplexed with himself.

Armin watched him in the silence and placing his hands on his hips, the boy let out an exasperated sigh.

'You're such a doofus! I thought we came here to find your—'

'I KNOW!' Eren cut in, irritably. 'Armin, I'm fully aware what we came here to do. And trust me, I tried, and I'm still trying to find him. I haven't given up. Now, will you please stop giving me the third degree?'

Silence filled the room and the space between them. Feeling a little guilty, Armin pushed the casserole towards Eren.

'Eat. If it's any consolation to you, the _creep_  was looking worried about you too.'

The brown haired young man looked up at him, startled.

'What?'

Armin squinted at his friend suspiciously. 'That makes you happy, doesn't it? You've got some weird kink for extra-terrestrials, don't you?'

'No, don’t be silly,' Eren protested weakly. 'I don't have any stupid fetish like that.'

'Liar,' Armin noted promptly, looking sly. 'Is it the mask? You were always hung up on comic books. Heck, your room was overflowing with Spiderman and the Avengers. It's the mask, isn't it?'

Eren gave him a pointed look.

'Armin, come on—'

The saint glared at Eren, challenging the boy to refute it.

Eren flushed again, pressing a hand to his face.

'Fine, it might have a little to do with the mask,' the peacekeeper relented. 'But that's not the real reason.'

'Ha. So, what’s the real reason, Casanova?'

Eren brought his hand down and met Armin's gaze with dead seriousness.

'It's just that—' the brown haired boy paused, frustrated, trying to find the words to describe his state of confusion. 'It's just that he reminds me of Levi.'

The confession was followed by a cold, hard silence. Armin took the seat beside him, his posture rigid, his interest piqued. This was an interesting development and one that he hadn’t anticipated in the scheme of things. 

'You think it's him? Really?'

Eren shrugged.

'I dunno. I can’t tell how old this guy is. The height's all wrong. He sounds hoarser, looks buffer. And why would he be hiding behind a mask? And most importantly, why won't he tell me? It doesn't make sense,' the peacekeeper griped, running a jerky hand through his hair.

'Why don't you just confront him?'

Eren shook his head.

'I can't.'

Armin raised an eyebrow.

'Why the hell _can't_ you?'

Eren chewed on his lower lip.

'Because I’m… afraid, Armin. I'm really afraid.'

Armin stared.

'You are afraid? Eren Jaeger is afraid? Bullshit, it'd be easier to admit that pigs fly.'

'No. I am,' Eren admitted flatly.

'Of what?'

Eren shook his head, turquoise green eyes fixating on the food in the casserole. 'I’m afraid of him being Levi and... of him _not_ being Levi. Do you get what I mean?'

Armin groaned aloud and buried his head in his palms.

'No, you goddam arse, but you're giving me a migraine. Whatever it is, Eren, you're not going to figure out the truth by being cooped up in this room.'

Eren realised that his best friend was probably right. He grabbed his fork and spoon, looking dejectedly at the dragon chicken rice. 'Yeah, you're right, Armin. I need to ask him. Face to face. Put all cards on the table. I can't run away from this.'

Armin watched his friend scoop up a spoonful of rice.

'Yeah, you do that,' his best friend agreed. 'But Eren, seriously, we need to get you therapy about your choices in men,' Armin rued.

 

 

 

The next morning, Eren decided to take Armin's advice to heart and showed up for breakfast. He could see a familiar figure in a trench coat sitting at the bar counter, watching Eren as he approached. Except as soon as he entered the kitchen, the Vigilante's troupe (sans Izzie) got up from their seats, all in a haste to leave. The masked man was the last to depart, pausing briefly before Eren.

The Vigilante rumbled out a laugh from behind his second face.

'Ah, guess who decided to join civilization again. Got tired of moping?'

Eren slunk against the door, giving the man enough room to pass. Yet, the Vigilante remained hovering before him and studied Eren's face in the uncomfortable space between them. Eren reminded himself why he had come down in the first place.

Ask him.

Just ask him.

Except how was he supposed to ask that question to this condescending freak? 

He averted his gaze to the floor.

'Uh. So, you're going out again?' Eren finally inquired though it wasn't the question on his mind.

'Yes,' came the reply. 'I have places to be, things to do. I don't have time to be lazing about… unlike some kids.'

Eren winced. The last potshot seemed directed at him.

'I can help out, y'know,' Eren said, lifting his gaze to the Vigilante's face.

There was no change in the inkblot pattern as it considered him.

'Finally remembered that promise you made to me, huh?' the man observed with a derisive laugh. 'But no, you can't come.'

'Why?' Eren asked.

The reply came swift.

'Because of the Manifesto.'

Eren gave him a quizzical look.

'Wait. What manifesto?'

In answer, a gloved hand tapered towards a pocket and sought it out. The paper was thrust into Eren's fingers.

Giving the other man a hesitant glance, the brunet peered down at the parchment and read through it. The more he read, the more ridiculed he felt. 'You're joking, right? What the heck is this?' Eren blurted out, his eyes skimming over the bullet list.

But the masked man had left the passage already and was moving towards the exit.

Eren followed him, dogging his steps.

‘Hey, I can’t just sit here. I came all this way to find him—’ Eren protested, biting his tongue. ‘You can’t keep me cooped in here. I’m not a kid.’

The masked man scoffed.

'If you're not a kid, then persuade me,' the Vigilante spoke over his shoulder. 'Show me that you can follow orders.'

 

 

 

The Vigilante's Manifesto was a six pointer. He didn't know if the man had a sense of humour and if he did, Eren didn't find it funny at all.

The Manifesto read—

 

  1. You will not leave the perimeter of Chromium Shark without permission or a chaperone.
  2. In my absence, Isabel Magnolia will issue all orders, and you are to follow her directives without fail.
  3. Do not attempt any communication with visitors.
  4. Do not endanger the lives of your peers or my comrades.
  5. Again, in case you didn't get the main gist of this manifesto, you're not to leave Chromium Shark under any circumstance.
  6. My word is law here and will always be final.



 

'You've got to be kidding me!' Eren muttered as he read through the yellow parchment a second time.

Jean grunted from his spot at the dining table.

'Welcome to the club,' the ashbrown said.

Eren looked at Jean as the taller man crumpled his copy of the manifesto into a ball and tossed it at the adjoining wall.

'Oh no, the boss is quite serious,' Isabel said, poking her head into the kitchen. 'And _that_ wasn't nice,' she told Jean with a frown.

Jean grunted at her. 'Eren is right. Are you trying to belittle us? We are not children. Three of us are trained soldiers of the State,' Jean said. 'While I'm not as enthusiastic as kamikaze bastard here to join a mask donning freak's crusade, keeping us sheltered in your inn is hardly going to help your side or _ours_. We don't want to be dead weights. And I'm sure Marco and Armin would agree with me,’ Jean paused, looking around. ‘Where the hell... are they?'

Isabel sighed.

 'Marco is helping with surveillance. And Armin is tinkering with something upstairs. The point is they're both being useful in their own ways. Except for you two and yes, I am talking about Mr Grumpy and Mr-I-will-get-myself-lost-and-be-a-pain-in-the-ass-to-everyone.'

Eren shrunk a little. Yet another potshot directed at him apparently.

He gave the redhead an apologetic smile. He nodded.

'Sorry, Izzie. What would you like us to do?'

'Now, that's the spirit I was looking for,' Isabel said, smiling cheerfully and held up a wicker basket. 'We, gentlemen, are going shopping!'

'Shopping?' Jean and Eren echoed in cohesion.

Isabel gave a 'tsk'.

'Well, duh, everyone can't be out in the field. Someone's gotta feed the army, you know.'

 

 

 

The heat was sweltering; the sky a hue of magenta and the grey landscape an eyesore. Levi peeled off the mask and let his face meet the warm embrace of the desert wind. There were no aquifers in sight, not one shrub or even a cactus growing on this barren plain. He wrenched the modulator free from his mouth, wringing the microphone out. Free from his disguise, Levi took a deep breath and let his lungs fill completely. There was no natural scent in the putrid air. Funny how two days earlier, he had almost gotten a whisk of green foliage, green as someone's hauntingly beautiful eyes, green as someone's promises to take him places wild and unseen.

He was struck by an old memory. He remembered Eren's throaty laughter as the brunet made those promises.

'I was thinking about going to the Grand Canyon and screaming 'YES! Corporal is MINE! All mine!'

'What is this Grand Canyon?' Levi had asked in return.

He’d received a kiss in answer.

'Just another place you and I need to visit someday.'

Levi grew unsettled at the memory and wiped the sweat from his brow. No. Let's not go there, the raven-haired man urged himself. Not back in time, he vowed in the silence. The desert air was dry, void of any familiar scent. Except for the acrid odour of the propellant in the bazooka.

Magnum was the operator, Hunter being the designated second, the loader of the artillery. They were positioned half a mile from the rail tracks in the sand— maglev tracks connecting Trost to Ulkridge. A digital signpost stationed next to the tracks was blinking yellow, signalling the incoming train miles away.

And so, they waited.

Levi looked down at the inkblot mask in his hand, wringing the fabric between his gloved fingers. He scanned the moving white and black spots on its surface. With the arrival of Eren and his friends, the older man had been forced to be on his guard. It was taxing, to say the truth. It was taxing to be the Vigilante every waking hour, every waking minute. And it was a little pathetic that the only place Levi could be himself was out here in the desert. The short man ran a hand over his shaved undercut, sliding his fingers across his scalp, feeling for the other half of the modulator tucked under his hair. He unstrapped the band, wrenched it out and discarded them to the grey sand.

Rivaille Levi felt considerably lighter without the burden.

Farlan picked up the cast-off garments and pocketed the voice box.

'Is this alright?' his aide asked, pulling back the hood to his cloak. 'What if there are cameras on the—'

Levi shrugged in nonchalance. 'It's just a freight train, Church. I'm willing to bet there won't be any.'

Farlan looked at the coat and mask again. 'You're acting strange. It's not like you to take risks, Rivaille.'

Levi turned and walked over to the nearest boulder. He sat down on it and watched Hunter load the warhead into the bazooka.

'Predictability was never my thing, Farlan,' Levi finally said, rolling his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. 'Besides, I'd like to hear my own fucking voice before I forget what it sounds like,' he said with a small upward quirk of his lips.

Farlan Church nodded in understanding and took the empty spot beside his friend.

'How much longer?' Levi asked him, grey eyes scanning the barren land.

Beelzebub looked at his watch.

'Fifteen minutes to fourteen hundred.'

Levi nodded and turned to Magnum.

'You get one hit, Magnum,' he directed the man with the dreadlocks. ‘If luck’s in your way, two. You better not miss it.'

'Y-Yes, Captain.'

'Sir, what about the drivers?' Hunter asked from behind them.

Levi shrugged in disinterest.

'Droids. Just reprogram those bots and send them on their way again. Like I said, it's just a freight train carrying food supplies. I don’t expect to find high-end models on board. Concentrate on slowing down the target, I will take care of the rest.'

Farlan glimpsed at his watch and nodded, counting down the minutes. 'I'm glad you didn't enlist Moloch's help this time, Captain. Bad blood between you two?' he asked the raven-haired man.

Levi shook his head.

'No,’ he said. ‘Our dear Moloch just needs to clarify certain doubts of mine.'

Farlan gave him a quizzical look.

‘Doubts?’

'Like why he is running an organ black market on my turf.'

This didn’t come as a surprise to his crew.

‘That bastard,’ Magnum interjected. ‘I told you he was a two-faced eel, Captain.’

‘Keep your eye on the bazooka, idiot.’

‘Right you are, Captain.’

There was another round of silence as the men waited patiently. Farlan checked his watch again. They still had ample time. The lean blond man gave a low hum and decided to broach a subject, a topic that his old friend had been avoiding for a long time now.

'You know...' Farlan trailed, biting the inside of his cheek. 'I don't understand why you're not letting Eren and the others come onboard. He’s right. You can't dodge the fact that they are soldiers, Rivaille. They can be useful. Especially Eren. He wants to help, I can see that. He’s compassionate and fearless, qualities that are not easy to find in people.'

Levi said nothing and instead, watched Magnum position the bazooka over his shoulder. Farlan knew he’d failed to engage him.

'You... don't trust him?' the former rebel leader asked. 'Is that it?'

Levi smiled at that.

'No, I don't trust myself.'

Farlan watched him long. But the man plagued by the dark shadows under his eyes did not explain his reasons.

The rebel leader gave a wistful sigh. 'He is not a child, you know,' Farlan argued. 'Why don't you tell him the truth? Instead of making him run around in circles, tell him why you are doing this. He is going to catch on eventually.'

Levi scoffed, bitterness evident in his tone.

'No offence, Church. But I'm not taking relationship advice from you.'

Farlan hissed, passing a frantic glance in the direction of Magnum.

'Touché,' he said in an undertone and gave Levi a sharp look, asking him to drop the subject. 'But a quid for my thoughts, Eren is in his twenties, Levi. He’s grown up. You need to start recognizing him as an adult.'

'Time?' Levi said, changing the subject abruptly.

'Five minutes,' Farlan said with a scowl. 'And don't ignore me. You know I hate it when you do that,' said Farlan. 'Do you remember the day you asked me to be your witness, I couldn't believe it back then.'

For the first time in probably a million years, Farlan noticed a small cautious smile break out on his friend's face.

'Oh, I remember alright,' the captain remarked. 'You were angry, weren't you?'

Farlan nodded reluctantly and admitted to the truth. 'Of course, I was. You were settling down, and I thought you had forgotten all about us. I was furious with you... and Eren. But now, I don't know who I feel sorrier for.’

Levi's attention streaked across the horizon. His expression remained passive.

'Time?'

'Two minutes,’ the rebel leader answered automatically. ‘How long are you going to keep up this charade?' Farlan asked, refusing to drop the subject.

Levi ignored him blatantly.

Farlan dusted his knees in chagrin. 'If you aren't careful, someone might steal him away, you know.'

Levi pretended to not hear him, but Farlan could see a glove finger twitch.

'There's that guy... Jean Kirstein. A PeaceCorp like Eren. He is taller too,’ Farlan suggested with a smile that grated on Levi. ‘Handsome and young. And he doesn't treat Eren like a pesky child. They seem to have their secret code too,' Farlan said, giving his friend a smirk.

'Time?' Levi asked irately, still bent on ignoring his comrade.

'One minute,' Farlan replied.

And just when Levi thought he'd put an end to this discussion, Magnum's head shot up and the subordinate decided to pitch in too.

'Oh yeah, speaking of Jean, that guy tells a great joke.'

'True, kid's funny as hell,' Hunter chimed in.

Levi's head snapped towards both, giving the two men a whittling glare.

Magnum gulped and tried to fix the damage.

'Of course, y-you, Captain, have a g-great sense of humor. Your turd jokes are the best in the world, I swear.'

The raven-haired man narrowed his eyes and spotted a freight train approach in the distance.

Levi pointed towards it dully.

'Concentrate on the fucking bazooka, Magnum. And _thanks_ for the vote of confidence.'

 

 

It was some time after midnight when Armin heard a knock. It had been a long day for the saint, a day without any significant breakthroughs in Krobe's repair. Seeing that everyone else was asleep, the blond sat up and staggered over to the door, opening it with a jerk of the handle. He had expected Isabel Magnolia on the other side, prepared with another chores list.

But much to his surprise, he found the Vigilante waiting against the wall.

'It's Squeaky, huh?' the man observed.

Armin rolled his blue eyes.

'Look, for the last time,’ he bleated in protest. ‘My name is _not_ Squeaky. It's Armin. ARMIN ARLERT!' the college student huffed indignantly.

There was a chortle of amusement from behind the mask.

'Squeaky, it will be. Where's your friend?'

' _Which_ friend?' Armin demanded.

'The idiot. Oh wait, that doesn't help narrow down, does it? I’m looking for the troublemaker.'

Armin raised a eyebrow in suspicion.

'Why?'

'Why?' the man echoed in displeasure. 'Do I need a reason? It's my residence, and you are the visitors, the last time I checked.'

Shit, Armin thought with a wince. The man made a valid argument.

Armin paused, giving the man the once over. Shaking his head in a mix of puzzlement and curiosity, the blond boy tottered back inside. He crawled over the sleeping form of Jean who had a not so innocent hand wrapped around Eren's neck. The two were sleeping in a huddle, a very dangerous huddle. Armin made a small note to himself and hoped Jean Kirstein had a valid reason for groping his best friend in the middle of the night.

For the present, Armin shook the brunet's shoulder, keeping quiet so he wouldn't have to wake up a sleeping Marco or Jean.

'What?' Eren asked drowsily, drawing his messy brown head out of the covers.

'Someone's here to see you,' Armin said, pointing towards the door.

'Who?'

Armin growled at the inane question.

'Find out for yourself. I’m not an effing messenger.'

Eren frowned and shuffled out of the covers. Straightening himself, he ambled over to the door and slipped out into the hallway. Dressed in his slacks and a crumpled tee, Eren found himself facing the masked man. Consciousness hit him like a bucket of cold water.

'You… asked for me?' he asked, hoping he sounded lucid enough.

The Vigilante was silent for a long, drawn moment. He gave a curt nod.

'You said you want to help me, right? Does your offer still stand?'

Eren looked at him and nodded.

'Yeah. It stands.'

The Vigilante studied the boy through that eerie mask of his.

'Good,' the man finally deemed. 'There is a VIP dinner in Ulkridge tomorrow night. I have business there.'

Eren tried to absorb the information through his groggy state.

'O- _kay_. And what do you want me to do, Captain?'

There was a smile in the voice that answered.

'Nothing. It's a masquerade party, and I just needed a companion.'

Eren stared at the man.

'A companion?'

The Vigilante shrugged as he turned to leave. 'I believe the term you earthlings use is… a _date_.'

Eren blinked, his mouth going dry.

'Whoa, whoa. If you think I'll wear a dress for you—'

The rebuttal was quick to come. 

'No. I'll arrange a tuxedo for you. It should suit you well,' saying which the masked man finally turned and vanished down the corridor, his steps drowning in the silence he left behind.

_What?_

A confused Eren stumbled back inside and returned to his bedspread. He sat down on the covers, wary of waking up the sleeping ashbrown beside him.

_What the hell happened just now?_

Armin apparently had powers of telepathy. The blond answered the question for him.

'You got _asked out_ by an extra-terrestrial. Now go to sleep, doofus.'

 

* * *

 


	62. Not Levi

Chapter-62- Not Levi

~.~

 

 

Eren drew the razor down his chin and shaved the lather off it neatly. He trimmed along his jawline, sweeping the blade across his skin and when he was done sweeping bold strokes, the brunet tucked the razor under the running faucet. He watched the blade swirl, regurgitating the speckles into the sink. Eren looked back up and studied his reflection in the mirror, checking to see if he'd missed any tricky spots. The whole task would have been easier if there wasn't someone glaring at him in the reflection.

Sighing, Eren rinsed his face and neck while waiting for his partner to speak up. But the other man seemed to be biding his time.

When the brunet straightened up again, drawing away from the sink, there was a gratuitous hand holding out a towel. Eren received it, uttering a small 'thanks' to the owner of the hand and rubbed the towel across his face.

When he finally couldn’t take it anymore, he looked at his partner and gave the ashbrown a disparaging glance.

'Stop giving me that look, Jean,' Eren told him.

Jean Kirstein pursed his lips in a thin line and crossed his arms over his bare chest. (Apparently, the innkeeper had forgotten to load his clothes into the washer... and Jean was inclined to think it was no mere _accident_ by Titan standards _._ ) The hazel eyed peacekeeper had been sulking ever since he got up this morning. And it wasn't just because Isabel had missed doing his laundry.

'You're going on a _date_ with the creep?’ he asked. ‘Seriously? Are you off your rocker, Jaeger?'

'It's _not_ a date,' Eren asserted.

'It so is,' chimed his best friend from the bathtub. Armin's head bobbed up over the sides of the tub, and the blond raised a hand, wagging his finger in air as if to enlighten them with his company. 'May I remind you that the creep said so _himself_?'

Eren turned to Armin and gave the boy a look of exasperation.

'So not helping,' he mimed to his best friend.

Armin shrugged and went back to scrubbing a piece of circuit board with a tooth brush. The boy was busy lately, tinkering away at something behind everyone's back. Eren wondered what it was.

‘What are you up to, anyway?' Eren asked his friend.

'Oh, don't mind me,' Armin piped. 'Just doing some housekeeping on my end. Don’t let me distract you, McDoofus. You can go back to grooming yourself for your big date.'

Eren groaned audibly. 'Chrissake, come on, you guys. For the last time, it's NOT a date!' he said, grimacing at the two of them. He turned to the mirror again and flinched at the look Jean sent his way. Yep, no one was taking his word for it. The brunet tossed the towel on the hanger and cleared his throat.

'Jean,' he said, keeping his voice even as he tried to explain his motives. 'I’m just doing a trade for trade. The Vigilante knows this maze inside out. He can help us. One favor for another, that's all it's going to be. Besides,’ Eren paused, shuffling his feet. ‘—we do owe him _one_. As much as it’s embarrassing to admit it, the Captain has helped us out of trouble enough times already.'

'Helped _you_ , you mean,' Jean corrected with a tight-lipped smile.

Eren scowled, whirling around and met Jean’s gaze with a furious one of his own.

'What's that supposed to mean, horseface?'

'You know exactly what I mean, Jaeger. Admit it, that guy takes an _unusual_ interest in you.'

Eren crossed his arms tightly and cast a narrow look at the taller man.

'You're being a dick,' Eren said.

Jean scoffed. 'Oh yeah? Between the four of us, why did he pick you? Not me, not Armin—'

Armin let out a chuckle, and his head bobbed up again to divebomb into the conversation (though his contributions remained largely unwelcome). 'Sorry to break it to you, Kirstein, but you and I are still wanted by the State. We are fugitives on the run. A homicidal maniac and a drug peddler can't exactly be waltzing in and out of high society, duh.'

The hazel eyed boy scowled at the logician.

'Alright, why not take Marco along?' he suggested next, grappling to make his point.

Armin rolled his blue eyes.

'Marco is a Titan. There’s a high chance he might get recognised by his own people.'

Jean regarded Armin with a sour taste in his mouth.

'You have an answer for everything, don't you, shortie?'

Armin beamed at him, grinning expansively.

'Of course. I’m the only intelligent one here.'

Jean flipped him the middle finger, and Armin gave a low growl in return. Words were exchanged, and the volley of insults grew. From Armin's _Oh, you did not just do that_ , followed by Jean's impulsive _Yes, I did, Blondie. What're you gonna do about it?_ Eren stepped in before a quarrel broke out. Of course, he had never really broken fights before (usually finding himself to be the source of meaningless quarrels) and thanked the gods when reinforcement finally arrived.

The door opened. Isabel Magnolia sauntered in, carrying a stack of neatly folded clothes.

Jean reached for a towel in embarrassment and draped it around his neck. He gave the innkeeper a wary glance, looking a little flustered by her presence. 'Lady, you should really knock before you enter the men's room,' he griped. 'We could have been naked and... _stuff._ '

The redhead stopped in her steps, raised an eyebrow and walking over to the ashbrown, she thrust the stack of clothes in Jean's arms. She buried her hands in the pockets of her apron next and surveyed the three young men.

'I’m nine months along, Mr Grumpy. Nine months! I can assure you I’ve seen a dick before, and it doesn't embarrass me. Not in the least. So, sock it,' she told him with an impish smile. A mischievous glint came over her green eyes as she considered them. 'And if we must compare, I’m sure my _amante'_ s—'

'LALALALALALA~!' Armin yelled out from the depths of the tub in a vain attempt to drown out her words. 'Sorry, ma'am but we really don't need a dick contest right now!'

Isabel held her midriff and let out a bark of laughter.

'You Earthborns are such prudes.'

Jean glanced furtively at her belly while he pulled a shirt over his broad shoulders. 'Nine months, huh?' Jean asked, his expression curious. 'So, which one is it? Boy or a girl?'

'Does it matter?' Isabel interrupted, annoyed by the question. 'I am just glad to have come this far. It’s been months... and I still can't believe there is a new life growing inside me.'

Armin frowned as he returned his attention to the circuit board he was tinkering around with. 'Not really. Reproduction is a piece of cake. All you need is a sperm and an ovum, a male and a female. It happens from single cell organisms to complex—' the blond boy shut up quickly when he caught the look of disgust on Eren and Jean’s faces.

‘What’s with those dirty looks?’ he asked, sounding offended. ‘It’s Biology 101. C’mon.’

Isabel merely nodded and didn’t seem grossed out like the others. She placed a hand over her belly, a wistful smile unfurling on her lips.

'You make it sound so mechanical, Armin. Every child is a miracle. You won't understand it unless you get to a certain age. That’s when the urge hits you.’

'What urge?’ asked Jean. ‘To make babies?’

'Not exactly, Grumpy. When you grow older, the urge becomes stronger. It's the urge to find a purpose in your life. The need to leave something of your own behind. Something that outlasts us,' Isabel looked at Eren as she spoke. 'A work of art. A legacy. Even your DNA. To most of us, it's the urge to have a family of our own.'

Armin shrugged, hardly convinced.

'Sounds like a midlife crisis to me,' he remarked.

Isabel laughed at his joke and turned back to Eren. The brown haired young man had gone oddly quiet, and he was looking at the mirror in a daze, biting into a nail, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

'Something wrong, _guapo_?'

Eren didn't respond.

'Eren?' Isabel called out worriedly. ‘Are you with us?’

The young man broke out of his reverie and blinked. He looked at them, startled.

'Sorry, Izzie. What is it?'

Isabel Magnolia regarded the boy in silence and noticed how Eren was having trouble keeping eye contact. He was rubbing his hands together, spinning his ring, lost in thought.

'Your stuff is ready, _guapo_. All decked and loaded into the cargo space. Is there anything else you need?' Izzie asked him.

Eren turned back to the mirror and caught a glance of his reflection. He scratched the back of his neck, growing rueful.

'If it's not too much trouble…' he said with a smile. 'Can you get me some flowers?'

Isabel stared at him, wondering if she’d heard it right.

'Flowers?'

 

 

 

 

It had not been easy for Isabel Magnolia to scout for flowers in their desert community, but she managed to get hold of some hybrid marigolds. She might have even paid a hefty price for them. The peacekeeper thanked Izzie for her help and accepted the handful of marigolds gracefully. He was now standing in an old familiar alley, across an abandoned pharmacy. Not much had changed since the last time he’d been there. The door stood cracked on its hinges, the knob still carried a red handprint, and the interior was in complete ruins. Though this time, there was no rain. Eren placed a glass of water against the brick wall and tucked the three stems of marigold into it.

He didn't really know what he was doing. But it seemed like the right thing to do. The _proper_ thing to do. The teenager who had breathed his last on Eren's back deserved a decent memorial. Everyone deserved a farewell.

Eren gave a sigh and crouched on his knees, observing the yellow flowers in a moment of silence.

'Sorry, Jerome... for not being able to save you,' Eren spoke into the hollow quiet of the alley. He didn’t really have an eulogy prepared. 'I am not sure if you were an orphan. But rest assured, there is someone to remember you. I will keep you in my memory, Jerome.'

Eren placed a fist over the left side of his chest and taking a deep breath in, he stood up. After one final glance to the flowers and paying his last respects, the young man turned and retraced his steps out of the alley. He lumbered his way to the clearing where the TJ stood parked in waiting. The Vigilante was leaning against a wing and was watching him as always.

Eren padded over to the Captain.

The masked man didn't say anything but looked past Eren to give the alley a long, pensive glance. If he had something to say, he kept it to himself. When he turned to Eren again, the man rummaged through his coat and drew out the keys.

'Here,' he said, tossing the keys to the brunet.

Eren caught them in surprise.

'I hope you know how to fly it,' the Vigilante said, flicking his head to the TJ.

Eren stared at the keys in his palm.

'You're letting me drive, Captain?'

The Vigilante gave a small nod as he sat down in the passenger seat of the cockpit. He took off his fedora, tucked it in his lap and began to strap in the oxygen mask over his shrouded nose.

'Why? Don’t want to?' the man's rough voice chortled through the breathing apparatus.

Eren shook his head and took the seat beside him.

If the masked man was letting him fly, Eren realised with sinking spirits that the Vigilante couldn't possibly be Levi. Like hell, his guardian would ever let him put one foot near a TJ.

'So, uh, Captain?' the younger man asked as he settled into his seat. ‘Why are we going to Ulkridge?’

'Reasons,' the Vigilante answered flatly, which wasn’t much to go on.

Eren scowled and turning to look out the windshield, he changed gears. The aircraft blew a steady blast of air as the wings extended and the wheels recoiled into the underbelly of the jet. He felt a mix of emotions in the pit of his stomach: euphoria, dread and even a little anticipation. The peacekeeper couldn’t help but feel uneasy about this whole trip to Ulkridge. He wasn’t sure what he was going to find there. Keeping his hands steady on the console, Eren guessed he would just have to be patient and wait it out.

 

 

 

 

They kept a high altitude to avoid being spotted. The aircraft swept through the low sky of Titan. Eren Jaeger wasn't sure which authorities manned the airspace outside the bubble cities. But he had no intention of being apprehended without a license or in the presence of a suspicious looking masked man. If they did get caught, Eren wasn't sure which part would be easier to explain. His lack of a license or the renegade sitting beside him. He wondered if this was the real reason the Vigilante was letting him drive. To give them cover?

In the awkward silence of the five-hour journey (so said the stats on the dashboard), Eren had all the time to think, to muse over his life and he wished he didn't. Because thinking never did him any good. Jean's words came back to him like a tidal wave of reckoning. Horseface was right. Why did the man ask him out on this mission? Why not his own aides— Hunter, Magnum or Farlan? Was the Captain giving Eren a chance to prove himself? To see if he was worth his mettle?

 

_Admit it, that guy takes an unusual interest in you._

 

Or was this really a… date?

The thought unnerved him. Eren’s eyes darted across the dashboard, trying to find something to distract himself with.

_Don't be an idiot, Eren._

_It can't be._

_For all you know, it could be anyone behind that mask. It doesn't have to be…_

'You're gripping the console too hard. Loosen up,' the Vigilante urged beside him, the man's voice sounding breathier through the oxygen mask. 'And check the pressure.'

Eren didn't respond at first. He watched the air space in muted silence, still frowning at the thoughts eating him away on the inside.

'Are you even listening?'

'Y-Yes, I am,' Eren vowed quickly, blinking hard.

No, the truth was... he wasn't listening. Not one bit. Because Eren Jaeger was reminded of the last time he'd flown in a TJ. Mikasa had given him a lift to military headquarters on that fateful day. He’d been on an angry bid to go home and to never return. To never ever return to Titan or have to face that man again.

Eren realised just how immature he’d been.

Because how do you go home when home is the place you are leaving behind? The warm alcove of someone's arms. The lips that breathed against your ears until you are spent. The home you spent years building. For some strange reason, Isabel's words echoed in his head. Over and over again, taking a snipe at him each time.

_'When you grow older, the urge becomes stronger. It's the urge to find a purpose in your life. The need to leave something of your own behind. Something that outlasts us. A work of art. A legacy. Even your DNA. To most of us, it's the urge to have a family of our own.'_

A family of our own, Eren repeated to himself.

A family of our own.

Was that the reason?

Was that the reason why he—

'LOOK AHEAD!' a voice snapped at Eren.

It was a warning that came in the nick of time.

Eren caught sight of something large and colorful looming before them, edging closer and closer _. Crap,_ he muttered, realizing they were about to collide straight into it. His heart leaping to his throat, he swerved sharp. The TJ's right wing tilted just in time. It was a close encounter— too close for comfort— for they’d just squarely missed hitting a weather balloon in the sky.

'Oh God,' he mumbled, sweating profusely. ‘Shit, I didn’t see that coming.’

He heard a rustle and felt a gloved finger flick his forehead.

Wincing, he hazarded a glance at the masked man beside him.

The inkblot face gave nothing away, but Eren was sure if looks could kill, he'd be a dead man right now.

'What the hell is wrong with you, kid?' the Vigilante snapped at him tensely. 'If you can't concentrate, put it on fucking autopilot.'

Eren muttered a quick apology and nodded in earnest. He switched modes from manual to autopilot and changed the gears again. Removing his sweaty hands from the console, he shrunk back against his seat and checked their coordinates on the radar. They hadn’t veered off-course thankfully. Ulkridge was still four hours away. But he almost crashed them into a weather balloon. That’s one memory he hoped he’d never have to relive, he thought with a wince. The last thing he needed was to kill himself the same way that Levi— _no, fuck no, don't think about that—_

'I didn't think you'd be this incompetent,' the Vigilante said after a long, drawn silence.

Eren checked the air pressure and deeming it to be safe, the boy took off his oxygen mask. The young keeper gave a sigh.

'Look, I'm sorry about that. I never got enough practice. Levi... he would never let me drive.'

There was a moment of silence, and it was followed swiftly by a snort.

'Sounds like your husband had his head in the right place. I wouldn't have trusted you either.'

Eren ignored the insult and looked out the window, aggrieved. He crossed his arms in a protective huddle. Trust. How he’d come to deplore that word. How he’d seen it raked through mud.

'Maybe you're right.'

'I am?' the Vigilante asked in surprise.

'Yeah...’ Eren rued. ‘I couldn't even protect our dog,' he said in a small voice.

There was a long, hard silence, and Eren felt like he was being watched. He turned to meet the man's gaze. The pattern on the inkblot face swirled. Turning unnerved under this scrutiny, Eren swerved his head back to the front. He fiddled with the controls, wondering if there was a way to get the radio on. News, weather report, anything… anything to take his mind off that one man beside him.

'So, what happened to your dog?'

Eren froze at the question, his fingers turning numb.

'It's… dead,' he finally confided and let out a bitter little laugh. 'Krobe saved my life twice. But I couldn't save it back. It took me eight years to get along with that stupid mutt and now it's... gone. Just plain gone.'

The Vigilante was oddly quiet.

When he spoke, his voice sounded kinder than Eren had ever known it to be.

'Machines are replaceable,' the masked man said. 'Humans aren’t. Don’t be hard on yourself.'

'No,’ Eren said, shaking his head. ‘Krobe wasn’t just a machine.’

The masked man turned to him.

The young peacekeeper shrugged, biting on his lip before pressing a smile.

'It was part of the family.'

 

 

 

 

 

When another hour had lapsed into the journey, they spotted the beginning ring of the sprawling city of Ulkridge. There were floating landmasses before them— hundreds in the air— and the masked man urged Eren to lower the altitude. Eren did as he was asked and switched back onto autopilot, letting the craft glide a low tangent in the sky, flying under the floating plantations. Eren looked up at the groves of trees. Becany, reedlock, birches, elder and the fruity smell of orchards wafted below from the green heavens. Ulkridge was the food capital of Titan, he remembered Marco telling him once.

'You know, back in my world, spring is just around the corner,' remarked Eren. A soft smile lit up his face as he gazed at these strange otherworldly sights, reminded of his own world.

'What happens in spring?'

Eren was surprised that the man was actually interested in knowing more.

'It's a blooming season,' the young man from Earth explained. 'Grass turns fresh green; there are flowers and colors all around. I'm not really a tree hugger, but my mom... she likes this season a lot. She loves knitting things for me too. Sweater, scarves, you name it,’ the peacekeeper spoke fondly.

His companion seemed to be choosing his questions.

'What was it this time?'

Eren shrugged.

'This time? Oh, she didn't make me one.'

'Hm,' the man hummed. 'Why? What happened this year?'

Eren let his shoulders sag and sank into his seat. His eyes darted around the dashboard again. 'She… decided to make one for him,' he confessed.

The masked man went quiet suddenly; Eren noticed him flexing the fingers in his white gloves. There was a measured pause.

'Did she?' the Vigilante asked, the unnatural voice going soft.

Eren nodded and felt his throat turning dry.

'Yeah. She made a sweater for him. My mom… She’s not well, but she has a good eye for proportion. She saw his picture, and she got his size down perfectly. How awesome is my mom!'

The Vigilante gave a low hum in acknowledgement.

Eren shifted in his seat and let out a caustic laugh at the memory.

'But you know the sad part? The really sad part? He's not even gonna wear it. He'll probably call me a sentimental idiot if I ask him to. That is—’ Eren’s voice wavered at this juncture, and he swallowed hard, feeling an ache in the back of his throat. ‘—that is, if he is still alive out there.'

There was a heavy silence.

The masked man cleared his throat.

'It's wise to not jump to conclusions, kid. Who knows... he might. Just ask him.'

Eren looked at the man askance.

The masked face revealed little and said nothing more on the subject.

 _Okay,_ Eren decided with a heavy heart, _this guy can't possibly be Levi. He's way too nice._

 

 

 

 

 

The wristwatch proclaimed the time to be 11:58, two minutes short of midnight. A young woman sat on a stretcher outside the emergency ward. Her face remained camouflaged by the silver hoodie pulled over her head, showing just the blonde tresses framing her face. She swung her legs back and forth in boredom, waiting for the cue. It dawned on her that she was spending a lot of time waiting these days.

When the clock struck twelve, the girl hopped to her feet. There was now the demeanor of professionalism in her movement, deliberation in every step. She worked her way past the nurse station, her steps soft on the polished floor of the hospital. The male attendant did not see her slip by and mumbled something in his sleep. Annie walked stealthily past rooms until she found the one she was looking for. With one last glance across the hall, she turned the knob, slipped into the room nimbly and closed the door behind her.

The ward was cast in a soft, fluorescent light.

Annie walked to the woman on the bed. The older woman had changed little since the last time Annie had seen her. Her hair was still the same dark brown though her skin had turned from olive to pale, a sick shade of pallor. On the bedside table, there was a 'Get Well Soon' card from a 'Hannes' and a bouquet of roses.

Roses.

Always roses.

'How are we doing today, Mrs Jaeger?' Annie asked into the silence.

There was no answer.

Of course, there wouldn't be an answer.

The blonde smiled contritely.

'Yeah, well, I am not feeling peachy either.'

She sat down in a corner of the bed and watched the steady wave on the monitor, the rhythm of a beating heart.

'Isn't this better, Mrs. Jaeger?' Annie whispered. 'You don't have to hear those voices anymore. I’m doing you a favor, really. A sweet release from the world, isn't it? You look like you're finally at peace.'

The ECG beeped steady; the comatose woman didn't reply.

'Your heart… seems to be well,' Annie observed sullenly.

She watched the woman's chest rise and fall, aided by the ventilator.

'So are your lungs,' Annie noted in a small voice. 'You wouldn't mind… if I steal them, would you?'

Her question was met by a heavy silence.

Annie let out a humorless laugh.

'Just kidding,' she said.

There was an audible small beep. Her comm. signaled an incoming transmission, and Annie shuffled to a corner. She pressed the green button on her wrist watch to receive the call.

'Leonhart,' croaked the voice of D.E. Lawrence. ‘You there?’

Annie resisted the urge to make a snarky comeback.

'Hey old man. What do you want?' Annie asked indifferently.

'New assignment for you.'

Annie waited for the man to continue.

And he did.

'How do you feel about returning to Titan?'

 

 

 

 

 

The building looked like a sham hotel. It was dingy, dark and cheap. Eren was unimpressed and didn’t understand why the Captain had chosen this one among all the sparkly high rises in the vicinity. The bellhop was an enthusiastic teenager who babbled and frothed in a mix of very odd medieval French and common English. The boy had dyed blue hair and a freckled nose, a nose which he kept less to himself and more in the affairs of others. Though he thought himself debonair, the consensus among his peers was that he was a bit of an ass, and Eren was inclined to agree. The peacekeeper wasn't amused by the boy though the Vigilante remained surprisingly tolerant of the bellhop, nodding along and even paying him an extra quid as tip. The boy led them up ten flights of stairs (a whopping ten! and Eren couldn't _fathom_ understand why there was no _friggin’_ elevator in this shady looking hotel). When they made it to the tenth floor, the bellhop supported himself on a pillar and took some time to catch his breath before finally stepping forward gallantly and showing them to their suite.

The boy swung open the door and gave a ridiculous bow in welcome.

' _Voila_!' he said, urging them to enter with a wave of his uniformed hand. ‘ _Boutez en avant!_ Forward please!’

Eren stalled, turning to give the man beside him a dubious look.

'What?' the Captain asked.

'Being a Vigilante doesn't pay much, huh?' Eren quipped with an upward twitch of his lips.

The inkblot face remained impassive.

'Are you being smart with me?'

Eren grinned like a Cheshire cat.

'No offence, Captain, but you picked the sleaziest hotel in the entire neighborhood. You’re not raking in the dough, are you?'

'If it’s not up to your standards, apologies. I’ll make it up to you _next_ time,’ the man grunted. ‘Let me remind you, kid. We are here for business, not pleasure,' the masked man said.

The Vigilante accepted the key from their concierge and strode in, leaving the brunet stranded in the passageway.

'Right,' Eren trailed, rolling his eyes. The peacekeeper sighed and taking a deep breath in, he grabbed his suitcase and lugged it forward, wondering why it weighed a ton. What exactly had Isabel packed besides his tuxedo?

When he entered their suite, the peacekeeper stopped in his steps, momentarily blinded.

Because all Eren saw was red.

The curtains were velvet red. So, were the pillows, the rug under his feet and the covers on the three-poster. All different shades of red and magenta. To some relief, he spotted a white mattress poking from underneath the king-sized bed. There was a bouquet of roses on the glass table (artificially bloomed) and a champagne bottle with a ribbon tied around its neck. On the dome ceiling, there was a painting of a nudist beach with naked people lounging on it. But the worst part, oh, the very _worst_ part— the one which took the icing on the cake— had to be the goddam bed.

Eren dropped the suitcase with a heavy thud. He strode over to the bellhop and caught hold of the boy's collar.

'Hold up! What's with _this_?' Eren asked, pointing to the elaborate furnishing around them.

‘ _Seigneur, je te prie garde ma vie._ What’s with what?’ the bellhop asked, rattled.

Eren pointed to the lavish bed.

The blue haired scrawny kid looked up at him, eyes transfixed in terror.

 _'Il s'agit d'un lit_. It's a bed,' the freckled child announced brightly as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Eren gave the boy’s shoulders a violent shake, and the urchin shuddered indignantly at the rough treatment.

'I know it's a bed, you twerp,' Eren seethed, gritting his teeth. ‘Why the hell is it heart-shaped and friggin’ _red_?'

The urchin raised an eyebrow at Eren, as if doubting the peacekeeper’s intelligence.

 _'A la vérité_. Because this is a honeymoon suite.'

Eren stared at the boy before dropping him to his feet, looking shell-shocked.

'Say what _?_ '

The peacekeeper turned to the Vigilante, who was checking the window and feigning ignorance.

'Hey, did you know anything about this?' he asked the masked man.

The man donning the trench coat turned and considered him liberally.

'Of course, I did,' the man said.

Eren, who’d braced himself to start an argument, was forced to close his mouth promptly. Curse it, he didn’t expect an honest answer this soon in the conversation.

'And do you mind explaining _why_ we are in a fucking honeymoon suite?' Eren demanded, gesticulating wildly between the bed and themselves. ‘Is this a joke, Captain?’

The bellhop who was caught amidst them, looked at the two in confusion.

'Wait, _monsieur_. You two are married, right? That’s what you put down on paper—'

Before Eren could fervently deny the insinuation and set the record straight, the masked man skulked over to Eren's side, grabbed the boy’s shoulder and clamped a gloved hand over the younger's mouth, startling Eren to silence.

'We are,' the Vigilante answered for him.

Eren's eyebrows shot skyward, and he turned to give the man an icy glare.

'Mmph,' was all he could manage to utter against the Vigilante's hand.

The bellhop didn't look convinced. Not in the least.

He cocked up an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between the two of them.

'Really?'

'Yes,' the Captain said.

‘Why… are you wearing that weird mask, _monsieur_?'

'This?' the Vigilante asked, gesturing to his second face and then with a sinister little laugh, he pointed to the young man struggling in his arms. 'It's his kink. One of his many kinks. He’s into BDSM.'

Eren's eyes widened even more (if it were possible), and he bit into the gloved hand muzzling his mouth. The Vigilante tightened his hold but showed no inclination to release Eren yet. The struggle between them didn’t go unnoticed.

'Really?' the bellhop asked again skeptically.

The Vigilante returned a firm nod.

'Oh, trust me, he _loves_ it. Lives for the thrill. He looks shy now. But he is quite... feisty in bed.'

The man donning the fedora tilted his masked face to look at Eren.

'Isn't that right, _sweetheart_?'

Eren glared in contempt.

* * *

 


	63. Codename Sunflower

 

Chapter-63- Codename Sunflower

~.~

 

 

The place was an anathema to him. The troublemaker wasn’t entirely wrong about this being the shabbiest lodging in the whole neighborhood. But there were tactical advantages here, that Levi couldn’t wholly ignore. This hotel, particularly this room, gave an unobstructed view of tomorrow’s venue. The Ritz.

The window was wide, its glass triple-glazed, overlooking a ledge with potted plants long dead. A layer of soot clung to the pane, coating it in grey. Growing restless, Levi closed the curtains and moved inside the room, looking around. Paranoid, he checked the bedside cabinets. Then went through closets, drawers and Eren’s suitcase, arranging and rearranging things inside it. The air conditioner breathed noisily, fine-controlling the temperature.

When everything that could be sorted was sorted out, he turned to the young man lying on the bed, elbow curled over his face, deep asleep. His hair tousled, eyes closed and shoulders at considerable ease. None of the usual firebrand anger, none of the pained nervousness. Eren breathed through his mouth, chest rising and falling to the rhythm of a relaxed heart. The peacekeeper was so edgy when he was awake, it was a moment to treasure to be able to watch him unabashed. Levi noted with a sense of humor and delayed gratification how Eren chose to sleep right at the edge of the heart-shaped mattress, their supposed honeymoon bed, teetering close to falling on his ass with the slightest push. As if wanting to keep his distance from Levi’s alter ego.

Eren had refused to partake in the champagne. He’d slipped off his sneakers and gone straight to bed.

Levi walked over to the boy and crouched by the bedside.

_A date, huh?_

He looked at the tan hand resting on the boy’s stomach. Eren’s right hand— the one which had taken the brunt of the Titan invader’s attack— the hand, which still wore its silver ring proud.  Despite everything that Levi said and did. Despite everything.

_When will you give up?_

As if in answer, Eren’s face went rigid, jaw clenching. Eyes moved under the lids, and the fingers of his right hand twitched, signs that Eren was having an unpleasant dream. Levi watched him convulse for a long moment before the masked man hunkered down gingerly and placed a gloved hand over the boy’s chest like he’d done so many times before (sans the gloves). He gave a gentle pat— once, twice, thrice until he’d settled into a rhythm of assurance, a rhythm Eren might subconsciously remember, and watched the boy relax into his touch, hopefully those troubled dreams waning.

 

 

 

 

While Eren kept little from Armin, there was one thing he hadn't confessed to his best friend about. He hadn't told Armin about why he was sleeping little these days and the reason being his dreams. For every time Eren closed his eyes and drifted to the delirium of the dream world, he would find himself in the psyche corridor. The courage to sieve through the memories hadn't returned, and Eren would remain sitting in the grey passageway, watching the lights flicker overhead. Strangely, he was never alone. There would be that shadow hovering at the turn. Eren stopped chasing it, and the shadow in turn had ceased evading him. Eren wasn't sure if he was being mocked but as days went by and this dream became recurrent, the shadow grew bolder and began to mirror him. Today, it was sitting at the end of the grey corridor, watching him as always from a safe distance. The stranger never tried to engage him in a conversation nor did he probe Eren with questions.

In the beginning, the figure in his dream had been a mere hazy outline. But now, it was almost corporeal. The trench coat became first apparent, next to come into view were the white gloves, the cravat hiding between the lapel of the coat and last was the fedora.

Eren tried to ignore the shadow of the man.

'Why are you _everywhere_?' Eren murmured sickeningly. The young man ran his hands through his hair, vexed with himself and the other. 'You're not supposed to be here,' Eren grouched, his voice cracking in the corridor of memories. 'You get me?'

The stranger didn't say a word and remained sitting with his knee propped in front of him.

'No one is supposed to be here,' Eren said again, sounding hoarse even to himself. Who was he trying to convince, he wondered.

'No one but me... This is my personal space. The only place I can be alone.'

This time, he had managed to elicit a chuckle in answer.

Eren turned to the man, looking peevishly at him. He found the stranger getting up to his feet and walking over to him. There was that inkblot face half shadowed under the rim of the hat. More real than ever before. The masked man stopped before Eren and knelt down. And without so much as a word, the man leaned towards his face.

Panic coursed through him, and Eren woke up with a jolt. There was a coolness in the air that was welcome. But despite the air-conditioning, he felt a troubling dampness under his cheek. Tears? Sweat? He didn't really know. Rolling to his back, Eren discovered himself to be staring up at a ceiling. A ceiling unlike the one in his dorm or the one in 1263. This one was an ornate painted dome depicting a nudist beach. Women were disrobing themselves against a pastel sunset. A man was lounging in the water like Adonis. An erotic painting, no doubt.

But why was he sleeping under it?

Where the hell  _was_ he?

It took a moment for the peacekeeper to gather his bearings. And as soon as Eren remembered, he sat up, scratching his brown head. He searched the suite and found the person he was looking for. The man from his dreams was sitting at the glass window, with the curtains pulled halfway. The Vigilante had dragged a chair to the large bay window and was straddling it; his gaze remained fixed on the building across the road. With his elbows plopped on the back of the chair, the man was surveying his target with the aid of interactive field glasses. Talking binoculars, Eren surmised. The glasses were describing the target to the last detail.

'Built twelve years ago by Mayor Salster Cambridge. Height: Six hundred leagues. One eighty-two storeys. Approximation of twelve hundred rooms, twenty penthouses, five galleries, a gala and one banquet hall. Fire exits on east end from ground zero to the multi-level parking lot. Currently guarded by—'

Eren didn’t mean to interrupt the briefing session. He wanted to slip out of bed quietly, without attracting the Captain's notice. In the end, his efforts were rendered futile. The rustle of the covers broke the Vigilante's attention.

The masked man turned, the binoculars still held before his shrouded eyes. As he studied Eren through it, the surveyor paused and scanned the new object in its line of vision.

'Target identified. Human male. Race: Unknown. Skin tone: Tanned of ochre—'

'Hey now—' Eren blurted out from the bed.

The contraption continued scanning him.

'Weight: Around one sixty pounds. Current facial expression: Looks angry—'

'No shit,' remarked the Vigilante, sounding amused.

'Hey!' Eren called heatedly. 'Don't scan me with that.'

The masked man gave a small nod and removed the binoculars from his face.

'I trust you had a good nap?' he asked, putting away the optical device to the table.

Eren nodded, despite his foggy mind still reeling from the effects of his dreams. He turned to the clock on the wall— a clock that was a hideous pink and another heart shaped abomination. 'How long... was I out?'

'Two hours. Don't feel guilty about it, the journey must have tired you out,' his companion said. The masked man paused, and there was that familiar mirth in his tone again. 'Though I hope, for _your_ sake, your husband never finds out about it.'

Eren, who’d been straightening his shirt, looked up sharp. He eyed the masked man suspiciously.

'Finds out about... what?'

The Vigilante rose from his seat, the inkblot mask watching Eren and appraising him for a long drawn moment.

'The fact that you dream about me,' the man answered.

At those words, there was an awkward silence; the peacekeeper felt the floor and the bed almost give away. Eren realised that all his nerves had gone stone cold. As if he'd been tossed into a freezing lake. In contrast, his face felt warm, cheeks burning up in shame, and he realised he was gaping at the man, mouth open, words never making their way past his lips.  _Christ_ , what exactly did he blabber in his sleep?

'You-You are lying,' he finally managed to say, swallowing hard. 

There was a chuckle, and the masked man's head dipped as he considered Eren with a hum. 

'Lying, huh? I'm sure you said my name a couple of times.'

Eren shook his head, refusing to own up to it. 

'No way!' he asserted.

What followed was a rendition of some poorly acted porno clearly meant to provoke Eren. 

'Oh, Vigilante, touch me there. _Please_. Right _there,_ ' the masked man feinted in a sultry voice.

A flush crept over the boy's face again.

Eren pressed a hand over his reddening face and scowled furiously. He was pretty sure he'd never said anything as scandalous as that.

'You made that up, didn't you?' he said, cocking up an eyebrow.

The masked man gave a laugh and straightened up. 'Maybe I did,' he confessed. 'Maybe I didn't.' Turning serious, the man nodded towards the bath at the end of the room. 'Anyway, enough with the chitchat, we need to get moving. _Fast._ '

Eren didn't quit glaring as he slid out of the silly heart shaped bed. He gave a reluctant nod and got to his feet. For a long moment, he stood perplexed in the middle of the room, wondering what was expected of him. He finally caught sight of the tuxedo that had been drawn out of the suitcase; it sat folded over the chair neat in its plastic wrapping. And apparently, it was waiting for him. Before Eren could make his way to it, the door buzzed.

He exchanged a wary glance with the Vigilante who said nothing. The door buzzed again before Eren headed out to answer it.

He wished he hadn't.

Because standing on the other side was that annoying pest of a bellhop. 

The blue haired teenager held up a fishy looking bottle. 'With compliments from Hotel Marionette,' the urchin announced enthusiastically with a grin.

'What the heck is that?' Eren dared to ask.

Again, he wished he hadn't.

The boy leaned in.

'Moodmaker,' said the bellhop in a salacious whisper. 

'Come _again_ ,' Eren said, his voice carrying a dangerous edge that the bellhop remained oblivious to.

The concierge sighed. He curled a finger at him, asking Eren to lean in closer as if the boy possessed a great secret to share. The bellhop licked his lips as he explained. 'A moodmaker... is, sir, you know, that thingy.'

'What thingy?'

'That thingy to get the pheromones going. For a delicious romp in the sack. All newly-weds try it out. An aphrodisiac. It's tested and proven—'

The boy stopped speaking when he caught the murderous glare from Eren.

The bellhop gulped when the brunet’s hand caught hold of his collar and pulled the boy up to his toes. The teenager shriveled up and began to wonder if the masked _monsieur_ had been right about this unruly guest being into BDSM. Yes, indeed, without a doubt, this guest of his did seem to thoroughly enjoy manhandling others.

'For the _last_ time—' Eren snapped, breathing fire through his nose. 'We are NOT together,' the peacekeeper emphasized, aware that he was loud enough to wake up the entire floor. In fact, a few doors opened, and curious heads peeped out to watch the commotion he was making. The bellhop frowned at the young man, rattled to his core.

 _'Monsieur,_ you're saying you're _not_ married?' he asked through his fog of confusion.

'I AM!' Eren reiterated in exasperation. 'Just not to _that_ guy. It's... It's complicated, alright?'

The bellhop's eyes widened.

'Ah, _chacun le sien_. I understand now.'

'You... do?' Eren uttered, releasing the boy in surprise.

'Yes,' the bellhop said, giving him a smug grin and a thumbs-up. 'It's an affair, isn't it? _Faut être._ Don't worry, _monsieur_. My lips are sealed. Of course, if you want to make sure they stay sealed, you may want to leave a generous tip when you are checking out—'

The bellhop shivered in terror when Eren let out a guttural growl.

'Fuck you. I'm giving you three seconds to get outta my face. And take your idiotic moodmaker with you.'

'But— But it's from the hotel with the best compliments. It’s even on the house—'

Eren snarled.

'One!'

The bellhop persisted. 'And no offence, _dieu aidant,_ you look like you need it!'

'Two!' Eren cut in, ignoring the jibe.

'Really, sir. You don't have to be shy—'

'Thr—'

'Fine. I'm going, I'm going. Sheesh!'

Eren watched the boy scuttle away, scrambling to get out of his range. And that’s when the brunet realised he was still holding the bottle; the incensed peacekeeper tossed the merchandise into the nearest trash can and slammed the door to the suite shut. Fuming, he returned to the bedroom to be met by a very amused man, who’d heard every bit of the exchange.

'For the record, this is all your fault,' Eren said, pointing a finger in the Vigilante's direction. 'All your fault, Captain!'

The masked man shrugged and feigned innocence.

Giving the man a dirty look, Eren grabbed hold of the tuxedo and tossing it over his shoulder, he disappeared into the bath.

Levi picked up the binoculars and turning to the window, surveyed his target again, a smile curving its way on his hidden lips.

Hardly a moment passed when he heard a storm of expletives explode inside the bathroom.

 _'Dammit_!'

Levi sighed.

'You alright?' he called out to the younger man.

'Yeah, whatever. Just found effin’ rose petals in the bathtub. Never mind.'

Levi chuckled to himself.

 

 

 

There had not been enough time to get a suit tailor-made for him. Isabel had packed Farlan's tuxedo for him, deeming the two men to be of the same build. The tuxedo fitted Eren just fine though it was a little short on the sleeves, which surprised Eren because he had always thought Farlan would be the one with the longer limbs. The young man tucked his shirt hastily under the waist band of his pants. He pulled the grey vest on, spruced up the collar and finally put on his coat. When he glanced up at the mirror, Eren admitted he looked pretty... _swell._ Maybe, even a smudge of dashing and handsome. It was a nice change from all the grubby jeans and t shirt he wore all the time. His mother would have been rather proud of his outfit. It was like high school prom all over again, and he grimaced at the memory of that dateless night. Sweeping his hand through his brown hair, he plastered the rebellious boyish strands to his scalp, styling them and when they didn't stick obediently; he sought out the complimentary gel on Hotel Marionette's welcome kit.

All this, while ignoring the bathtub with the rose petals.

Roses.

Eren cast a dark look at the bathtub.

There had been a time when he’d wanted to do stuff like this. Have a normal date. Do romantic 'shit' as someone would call it. Roses, champagne, intimacy, commitment. And yet here he was, in a strange land, in a stranger's company. And no sight or trail of that _someone_. The worst part of the ordeal was how he felt about all this. He was supposed to reject it and yet, there was a part of him that was grateful for this change. Eren Jaeger had spent the last few months on the run and on a chase, with no sight of the goal. This was a needed break. It also seemed to him that the Vigilante was going out of his way to cheer him up, and all Eren was doing was being a sourpuss about it.

Of course, if his friends heard about this honeymoon suite fiasco, they would never let him live it down.

Even Jean.

Scratch that.

 _Especially_ Jean.

Giving himself a silent pep talk to cheer up and look less gloomy, Eren walked out of the bathroom and pulled at his cuffs absent-mindedly.

'I'm done. The bath is all yours—' he never got to finish, having been startled by the sight before him.

For a moment, he blinked and didn't recognize the man.

Words failed him.

If Eren had thought he looked pretty swell, the Vigilante had outclassed him by a mile. A really _long_ mile. The man was wearing dark as always (some things didn't change). His attire seemed tailor-made to fit him, the fabric hanging to those well-toned shoulders. The man was wearing a tuxedo with a dapper long jacket, a charcoal gray neck tie and he had finally got rid of the cravat, exchanging it for a green opera scarf. The beaten fedora was gone too, and he now wore a new mask over his old one. An ornate silver masquerade mask, as classy as his outfit.

'… wow,' Eren mumbled despite himself.

He didn’t mean to say it aloud. But Eren realised he’d never really been good at keeping secrets.

The inkblot face turned to him in surprise.

There was a small silence, and Eren conceived that the man was checking him out too.

'Heh,' came that strange, unfamiliar voice. 'You don't look bad yourself. Though you're missing something.'

'Yeah?' Eren asked, trying to laugh it off, trying to not show any of his nervousness. 

'Hm. Yes.'

Eren watched the man saunter over to the vase of roses. He plucked one out, snapped the stem and walked over to Eren. The young peacekeeper took a step back in surprise, but a gloved hand caught hold of his wrist and pulled him forward. The Vigilante steadied him by his elbow and began tucking the rose into his buttonhole.

Eren humored him and looked past the man's shoulder, keeping his eyes fixed on the mirror. He fought hard to keep his emotions in check. But when he caught sight of his reflection, Eren realised that his emotions were already spilling out, his ears flushed red, eyes glazed over.

'Much better,' came the low, husky voice before him.

Eren felt the gloved hands reach up to fix his collar. And the fingers lingered there for a moment too long. Or maybe for a moment too short. There was that reminder again. Of the last time they had spent in such proximity. Eren remembered that evening in Maria under the downpour and in the fold of this man's arms. He’d almost ended up doing something he could have regretted his entire life. But this time, their roles were reversed, and the Vigilante seemed to be the one watching him transfixed.

But the man had better self restraint than Eren ever did. He drew back.

Eren felt almost disappointed at the loss of those fingers around his collar. And _holy guacamole,_ did he just think that?

The peacekeeper cleared his throat, trying to ward off those perplexing thoughts.

'So, um, what exactly, are we going to be doing tonight?' he said, pulling at his cuffs in quiet agitation.

The masked man gave him a look askance.

'Spending our honeymoon.'

Eren frowned, giving the other man a measured glance.

'I'm being serious, Captain.'

The masked man turned silent before giving him a nod.

'I'll fill you in on the way there.'

There was a pause; Eren watched the man move to the dresser to pick up the last of his accessories.

'Here,' the Vigilante said, tossing Eren something.

Eren caught hold of it clumsily and stared at the object in his hand. He found himself holding a masquerade mask, just like the other man's but golden.

Eren stared at it for long.

'Something wrong?' the Vigilante asked him.

The brunet shook his head and felt something stir in his chest. An old familiar feeling of heaviness and guilt.

'No,' he said and looked up at the other man. 'Uh, Captain? Before we leave, I need to ask you something.'

The man who proclaimed himself to be Lord of the Underworld stilled, turning to Eren expectantly.

'Spit it out. What is it?' he beckoned.

 

_Ask._

 

_Ask him if he is Levi. Ask him if he is the guy you're looking for._

 

_Just ask him._

 

What if he wasn't? What if the man laughed at Eren's desperation?

The brown haired keeper exhaled as he fingered the thread of the golden mask. He knew he was chickening out again, losing out to his fears and cowardice.

He pressed his eyes shut.

'You know what? It's nothing. Nothing at all.'

 

 

 

 

The ride to The Ritz was hardly a minute and not enough time to get debriefed on the plan. Eren was beginning to suspect if there was even a plan in the grand scheme of things. They parked the jet on the roof of the multi-level parking lot, which was already cramped with the influx of visitors. They walked past the valets and chauffeurs to the elevator. But before the doors could close, a guard came running.

'Excuse me!' he bleated, pointing to the suitcase in the Vigilante's grasp. 'All guests have to get their baggage scanned.'

The masked man gave a low hum and shook his head.

'Can't do that.'

The guard straightened his spectacles.

'I am sorry. But as per protocol—'

The Vigilante's gloved hand slithered into a pocket and drew out an ID. The frizzy haired guard squinted at the supplied identification, and his eyes widened a little when he read the name.

'I'm s-sorry for being rude, sir. I’m just doing my job. But as per rules—'

The Vigilante gave a 'tch' and motioned towards the suitcase. 'I have a prototype inside which is top-secret, government information for the perusal of the Military only. Now, if you'll excuse us, we need to get going—'

Before the guard could squeeze another word in, the Vigilante jabbed the button '101' on the elevator, the doors closed, drowning out the guard's protests, and the cab started descending.

Eren stared at the steel doors in bemusement.

'Uh, Captain, this would be a good time to let me in on the plan.'

'The plan?'

'Yeah. Please tell me you _have_ one.'

The Vigilante glanced at him. The man's reply was to fish out an earpiece and another ID from the pockets of his long overcoat. He handed them to Eren, who accepted them warily.

'We are using Gale?' Eren asked, motioning towards the ear piece.

The masked man fixed the opera scarf as he studied their reflection in the elevator's doors. 'It's a personal channel between you and me. Put it in your ear. To be on the safer side, use codenames when you are on the line.'

The cab screeched a little and Eren looked at the digital board, checking the floor they had just passed.

 

160

 

'Codenames?' Eren repeated, not liking the sound of it.

'Yes. Any communication link can be intercepted. Codenames prevent the plan from being compromised. It also saves the skin of one party if the other one gets caught.'

Eren looked at the man disparagingly.

'And what exactly is this plan?'

He was ignored yet again.

The Vigilante flicked a piece of dirt off his shoulders. 'As for names, you can be Sunflower, Mr. Brightside or Puppy. Pick one.'

Eren gave the man a dubious look.

'Uh, how about _none_ of the above? What's up with the funny list? Can't I pick something cooler like Green Lantern? Or Dr Manhattan?'

'No,' the man rejected the idea outright. 'Because A. it's a mouthful to say. B. I am partial to calling you sunflower.'

Eren broke into protests. 'Hey now. I don't agree to those—'

His eyes roved over to the display, reading the floor number again.

 

132

 

Eren panicked and bit his tongue. No, there wasn't enough time to be arguing about petty codenames.

'Fine. I'll be your fucking sunflower. What am I supposed to call you?'

There was a heavy pause, and the masked man turned to him.

'You can call me ' _Sweetheart_ '.'

Eren stared at the man incredulously.

'Hell _no.'_

'How about _darling_?'

'How about dirty old man?' Eren deadpanned.

'Fine, stick to Captain.'

 

122

 

Eren scanned the ID next. He was apparently Alabaster Rupert Kane, working for Mechatronics Inc, a name that sounded oddly familiar.

'So, what's the deal with this Alabaster guy?'

The masked man nodded.

'Good thing you reminded me. You are the PA to the President, Michael Keene, which is me—'

Eren nodded along, his turquoise green eyes watching the floor numbers count down. 'And what will you do if the _real_ Michael Keene shows up?'

'I have that taken care of.'

Eren was afraid to ask how.

'Continuing. About your history, you are from Trost, Alabaster. You grew up in Jeunesse district, twenty five years old, young achiever rising through the corporate ladder and all that crap; you're the President's paramour, good with networking, allergic to mushrooms and your favourite food is shrimp. Got all that down, kid?'

Eren frowned.

'Everything but the part about me being the president's paramour. Look now, I did not sign up to be anyone's—'

 

110

 

Eren sighed. 'Fine, I'll be the friggin’ sunflower paramour. How is this even relevant to the mission—'

The Masked Vigilante turned to him.

'Eren,' the man said, cutting his protests short.

The brunet tucked the ID into his pocket, trying to avoid the chill that ran up his spine. Why, after all this time, why did he still feel a shiver when the man said his name? Eren stopped digressing and turned to his companion.

'Yeah?'

'No plan is infallible. Even if I have thought this through a thousand ways, there will always be a thousand and one chance of something  going wrong. We can plan, but we can never predict the outcomes. You get me?'

Eren wondered if he imagined it, but there was the distinct impression of gloved knuckles bracing against his left hand. Here was a boundary that the peacekeeper hadn't been even aware of. Until now. Eren drew his fingers back and buried them in the pocket, withdrawing. 

'Yes, Captain,' he answered stoically. 

The Vigilante watched him and his guarded stance. 

'If the plan fails, you are entitled to bail on me.'

'Is that an order, Captain?' Eren asked, looking at the silver mask and searching for a sign.

'No,' the voice breathed in reply. 'It's a request.'

 

101

 

The doors opened with a melodic jingle, introducing them to a gallery flooded with light. Music belted out from the woofers. 

Eren watched the man leave, rolling the suitcase in his grasp.

If the plan fails...

'But what the hell is the _plan_?' he griped, following the Vigilante's footsteps.

 

 

* * *

 

 


	64. Game On

 

Chapter-64- Game On

~.~

 

People stared out of dusty panes of glass, conversations dying a sudden death when they spotted Jean and Marco walking down the road.  The folks of Maria regarded the two ominously, like they were twin omens of trouble. Trouble that carried with it a sniff of the State. Marco ignored the guarded looks and the fingers pointed at them; the freckled peacekeeper began to read out the list Isabel had entrusted to him while Jean glanced around, taking in their surroundings. To be honest, Jean was relieved to be finally out of Chromium Shark; he was raring to go exploring on his own.

Marco noticed his lively spirit and broke into a smile.

'You aren’t the type who can sit still, Jean,' he commented. ‘Are you?’

Jean grinned at his companion. Dressed in faded jeans and a shirt he’d borrowed from the plethora of Titans in the inn, the hazel eyed man shook his head. 'Nope, I like being where the action is.'

This coming from the same man who shirked all chores that Isabel Magnolia assigned him.  

Night had fallen, and there was a buzz of excitement in the air. Hawkers and merchants wrapped in cloaks were engrossed in the last bit of the day’s trade: counting inventory and closing their shop registries. Incense sticks and bug repellents smoked in corners of the market; children played tag, bumping headfirst into pedestrians. When a stray ball burst out of nowhere and knocked into Jean’s middle, the young man scowled and grabbed the ball, refusing to return it to the circle of waiting children.

'Ooooh, please siiiiirrrr! Give it back!' the children bellowed as they surrounded Jean and Marco, their grubby hands trying to reach for the ball and being thwarted each time. Jean raised his spoils and evaded them, noticing for the first time just how skinny these Titan kids were. The urchins seemed to be between the ages of seven and ten; the youngest of the lot was a small girl with chestnut brown hair, who was kicking Jean's leg fiercely, demanding the return of their ball. She was apparently the mascot of the group. But despite their pleas and whining, Jean held the ball high and refused to hand it back to them.

As a kid, Jean Kirstein knew exactly what he wanted to be when he grew up. To be a soldier or an astronaut, not particularly in any order. A dream that many would have deemed to be childish and improbable. But it was through sheer luck that he became both. Looking at these kids, Jean realised just how lucky he was to have been born in a better world and a better place.

‘Give it back!’ the mascot tugged at his sleeve. ‘Give us back the ball!’

Marco looked on in amusement at the circle of children and decided to mediate.

'C’mon, Jean. You don't want to make them cry, do you?' the freckled man said, nodding towards the children.

Jean stuck out his chin in defiance.

'Hey, they are the ones who started this! I was just minding my business until you guys—' he pointed a finger at the kids, ‘— decided to use me as target practice.’

Marco gave their circle of spectators a sympathetic glance. 'I’m sure they didn’t mean to hit you. It was an accident. Isn't that right, guys?'

The children bobbed their heads in agreement.

'Yes, we are sorry, mister! Truly sorry! Please give us back our ball now!'

Jean Kirstein considered them for a long moment before wrinkling his nose at them.

'You want this?' the PeaceCorp asked, gesturing towards the ball.

The children nodded with a loud cheer.

Jean smirked. Cradling the ball to his chest, he scanned his young audience.

'How about a game then? Soccer. If you win, you can keep it. If I win, I take this home. So, how about it?’

The Titan children looked up at him quizzically.

'Soccer?' they repeated, their faces drawing blanks.

Jean gave a heavy sigh.

'What the hell— you guys haven't heard of soccer?’

The youngsters shook their heads.

Jean found himself at a loss for words.

'What rock have you twerps been living under?'

It was Marco who spoke up, coming to their defence. 'A rock called Titan,' supplied Marco with a genial smile.

Jean shook his head, resigned. He glanced down and looked at the ball in his hands.

'Tough luck, man. But it’s no problem.'

‘How so?’ the freckled peacekeeper prompted.

Jean turned to his companion and winked. 'I can teach. You up for a game?'

Marco’s eyes flickered between him to the children, and with a chuckle, he gave in.

 

 

 

 

 

His mask— made from gold tinsel and faux gemstone embellishments around the crown of the head— had two slots for eyes and a gap for the nose to breathe. It was heavy on the ornate side, blinding to look at, and the straps kept itching, but he restrained himself well. Eren stood at the buffet table, peering over the tempting dishes on display. Lined up on the table were salmon roe, shrimp, broiler dragon chicken, magdebel— a shelled animal that roamed the Titan desert tempered in iquan sauce, tahini, mushrooms, as well as Reiner's personal favourite— the two headed eel and a whole menu for desserts: truffles, carnivanes, wine-dipped turenchillas and gelato. He didn’t know what half of this stuff was. If not for the placard accompanying the Titan dishes, Eren would have been at a loss and would have looked like an uncultured idiot. The service was practiced and hushed— he noticed. The servers well-dressed and bustling about. No one paid much attention to Eren Jaeger, leaving him to his devices.

His 'date' had disappeared as soon as they’d entered the gallery. An hour into the party already, and there was no sign of the Vigilante. The dinner party being strictly a black-tie affair, the guests stuck to the code. The opera music was low; the guests milled about like cows grazing on pastures. Everywhere he turned, he saw people wearing ornate masks of gold, silver, feathers and even a horse head, which Eren itched to take home as a souvenir for Jean. Apparently, Titan's high socialites did not party the way their counterparts did on Earth. There was no discotheque, no loud music, no swinging bodies on the dance floor or liquor overflowing from the tab. It was more cultured, dignified, and Eren felt like he'd been somehow transported to a Venetian garden party. There was more of sculpture appreciation and long gazing at Renaissance art, where old bloke A would describe to old bloke B about what old bloke C had tried to depict through his metaphorical work of art. In the middle of the large gallery, right under the crystal chandeliers, there stood a stout woman dressed in a velvet robe and pearls— a woman that Eren had mistaken for the hostess until she opened her mouth and began to serenade. The string quartet playing on the side struggled to keep pace with her notes. Her voice moved from a tenor to a staccato, and Eren suddenly wished he had his rock n roll music to drown out the banshee.

Eren stuck to the plan, whatever the hell this plan was supposed to be. He played Alabaster Rupert Kane with finesse, eating shrimps and avoiding the mushrooms. The lady with the shrill voice shrieked to the music, and Eren now felt the wine glass rattle between his fingers.

What was he doing here among Titan’s bourgee and the affluent? He was a penniless college grad from another world. He’d never fit in. What was the Vigilante thinking in bringing him here to a place like this?

He didn't really know.

Because someone didn't let him in on the plan. Because someone thought he was just a little kid who couldn't be trusted with the finer details.

It was a long moment before he heard static on his link.

'Sunflower, you there?' the Vigilante's disembodied voice spoke in his ear. 'How is it going?'

Eren ducked out of earshot, grimacing at the codename he’d been christened with. He moved to a corner— somewhere quiet and away from prying eyes— and strained to decipher the sounds accompanying the man's voice. Eren could hear high winds on the other end, then the sound of a drill, and the clatter of a tool chest being opened and closed.

'Five by five. And how is it going, you ask?' the peacekeeper echoed, tugging grumpily at the wing collar of his tuxedo shirt. 'I'm eating shrimp in the middle of an alien Comicon, and I don't have a clue to what I’m supposed to be doing here. How do you _think_ it is going?'

'Did you try the caviar rolls?' the Captain asked, ignoring Eren’s temper. The man’s voice grew hazier and crackled slightly.

'What caviar rolls? I don't see any—' Eren frowned, looking at the buffet table. He spotted the aforementioned caviar rolls; they looked delectable and Eren wondered how he’d even missed them. 'Dammit, that's not the point, Captain,' Eren grumbled as he walked over to the table and took a roll from the silver platter. The brunet lifted his mask a little and popped the delicacy into his mouth smoothly. 'Mmm-moi pouint iz—' he spoke through his full mouth and reluctantly admitted to himself that the caviar rolls were pretty damn good. He swallowed the bite, washed it down with a glass of beet-dill juice and cleared his throat. 'My point is— what are we _doing_ here?' he hissed into the link, his gaze darting around nervously as Eren tried to be quiet and discreet as possible.

He looked at the dais and realised that the opera singer was taking a break. The string quartet took over, launching into a romantic prelude and couples began moving to the centre of the gallery, hand in hand.

'Give me something to do, Captain,' Eren urged into the link. 'I feel like a loser standing out here alone.'

The sound of the winds was gone, replaced by footsteps storming down a hollow corridor.

'Captain?' Eren called worriedly. ‘Are you there? Where are you?’

After what seemed like an eternity, he heard the voice again. 'I hear you,’ the man answered. ‘It's a date. Enjoy yourself.'

'A date?' Eren whispered, his voice sounding strained. 'Like hell it is. Do you even know what a date is, sir?'

There was the sound of a door opening.

'Hm? Enlighten me, earthling.'

'A date, Captain—' Eren began to explain through gritted teeth. '— is when two people spend time together. Movies, wining and dining, dancing, a beach, a walk in the rain, whatever. This is so _not_ a date. I'm just a lunatic standing in a corner and talking to myself at this snobfest. In fact, there’s a girl who's been eyeballing me ever since I got here. I must look pretty suspicious already.'

There was static again before the man spoke.

'Hm, so you want to spend time with me? Just the two of us?'

Eren growled.

'You just filter out whatever you want to hear, don't you? Did you miss the part about me feeling like a lunatic?'

There was a long pause, and Eren heard another door slam close in the link. Where was the Vigilante? And what was he up to? It seemed like the man was on the move and drifting farther and farther away from Eren.

'And besides,' the peacekeeper grumbled.

'Besides?' the Vigilante urged, picking up the thread of their conversation.

Eren turned away from the gallery and looked at the wall, scratching his nape.

'I wish you would stop doing that.'

'Stop doing what, sunflower?'

_This._

Exactly.

 _This flirting,_ Eren wanted to tell him.

But the peacekeeper didn't get the chance to reply, because he caught sight of a shadow move in the corner of his eyes. The girl in red was walking over to him. _Crap._ Did he blow his cover already? Was this the untimely end of Alabaster Rupert Kane? The brunet watched the girl approach him warily. Dressed in a red sequin midi, legs long and shapely under the hem of her dress, the girl stood as tall as him and wore a bronze eagle mask over her face. Her onyx eyes were black as her raven hair, studying Eren curiously.

'A dance?' she finally asked, holding out her hand in invitation.

The voice was familiar, but Eren couldn’t match it with a face.

Eren had been planning to turn her down anyway (because he was on a goddam mission and when you’re on a mission, you do not socialize if it can be avoided.)

That was until he heard the Vigilante speak.

'Stick to your post, sunflower. Be on standby. Don't you dare move—'

It was enough incentive to make Eren change his mind. The peacekeeper finished chewing on his second caviar roll, swallowed it down thickly and took the girl's hand. He nodded, beaming at her.

'You know what? It’d be a pleasure,' Eren said agreeably and loud enough for the other man to hear it.

 

 

 

 

Jean Kirstein's intentions in coming to Titan had been simple. To uncover the truth about the State, to expose the agency that he’d represented in the last eight years; the same agency which had sought to kill him by the hands of the Titan invader. And to make sure a certain Eren Jaeger didn't land himself in trouble (maybe he'd been even hoping to make the idiot fall in love with him along the way).

Jean admitted that he was failing in all his missions. To be honest, he was failing rather dramatically at it. Armin's scoreboard was still tilted heavily in favour of the missing husband. To make matters worse, there was a new competitor in the making.

That creep.

The one who called himself 'Masked Vigilante'.

Jean cursed mildly under his breath. He was as close to uncovering the truth about Titan as he was to winning Eren over. All he had achieved in the last few days was to tick off a masked man, work chores for an alien lady and play footer with rugrats. Though he didn't mind the last one. Jean had always been a natural at sports, the ability having carried him well through high school and college.

As he explained to his young audience the difference between a forward and a defender, Jean realised how much he liked teaching, commanding and ordering around a ragtag bunch of youngsters. The PeaceCorp taught the children how to dribble, how to head-butt, how to pass and most importantly, how to score a goal. The Titan children were delighted and bursting with questions, wanting to know all. When the kids had gotten a hang of the game, Jean began to lay down the trickier rules.

The children weren't the only ones keenly listening.

Marco was paying attention as well.

Jean wasn't used to it. He wasn't used to being taken seriously. To be regarded with so much interest. Under Marco's awed gaze, he felt like an insect under a microscope. The scrutiny though flattering at times was also highly mortifying.

When the kids were sorted between Team Kirstein and Team Bott, they played a mock game under the yellow street lights. Jean's back was drenched in sweat and his voice hoarse from shouting. But he couldn't hide the fact that he was having a great time. A real swell time.

To his disappointment, they never got to finish the game.

Because there was the sound of a siren, and the children abandoned the match in lieu of running towards the source of that siren. Jean watched them go, startled at this abrupt timeout in their game. He swept a hand across his forehead to wipe the sweat from his brow.

'What happened? Where did they run off to?' he blurted out.

'Food,' was Marco’s single worded reply.

The freckled man was still trying the moves that Jean had taught him. Marco aimed a shot at a lamp post. He missed, and the ball curved to hit the wire fencing instead.

Marco frowned.

'Darn.’

'Food?' Jean repeated after him.

Marco nodded as he went to retrieve the ball.

'Yes… Farlan told me all about it. It seems the Captain's men distribute rations every night. There is an acute food shortage in the subpar so the Captain supplies the deficit,' Marco said, sighing as he looked in the direction of the siren blaring into the night. 'It's… pitiful. Kids shouldn't be deprived of food. Not at this age when they need all the nutrition they can get.'

Jean said nothing, watching the end of the road where a freight truck pulled up. He saw crates being unloaded from its rear.

'Let me guess. Running a soup kitchen was the Vigilante's idea?' Jean asked with a frown.

Marco nodded and noticed the expression on Jean’s features.

'You don't like him very much, do you, Jean?'

The ashbrown rolled his eyes. 'What's there to like about him? The man is a coward who hides behind a mask,' Jean grumbled, kicking a pebble on the street. He watched it bounce twice and let out a long weary sigh, scratching his neck thoughtfully, remembering how Eren was out there somewhere, alone with the creep.

Marco nudged Jean's shoulder and pointed out the way home.

'C'mon, let's go back. It's late, and we don't want our innkeeper to sound the alarm, do we?'

Jean agreed, letting the other man lead the way back to Chromium Shark. The two young men took the shortcut home, and the word ‘home’ struck a chord in Jean.

Home, Jean thought sullenly.

In a weird way, Chromium Shark had indeed become just that. A place where he didn't have to be afraid of being apprehended by the State. A place where he got to be himself, his dorky self. And a place where he he’d come to make new friends like Marco.

'You know… in my division, I was awarded the rising star medallion,' Jean remarked, remembering his days in the Training Corps.

Marco indulged him with a smile.

'Is that so? A rising star? That’s a feat not many achieve.’

'Yeah. How about you? How was training at your end?'

Marco wriggled his nose thoughtfully.

'Well, at Trost, the top three rankers were Annie, myself and Eren.'

Jean stopped in his tracks and blinked hard. 'Annie? Annie Leonhart? That wench?' he scowled. 'I guess I shouldn't be surprised. That girl packs a mean punch, I swear.'

Marco nodded worryingly.

'Annie is a true soldier. She is a one-man army, you know. On the other hand, Eren and I... just got lucky.'

Jean gave him a wry smile.

'Speaking about kamikaze bastard, you sure, Jaeger didn't cheat on the exams?'

Marco laughed, the sound of it infectious. 'Not really,' the freckled man said with a twinkle in his eyes. 'Eren took his training very seriously.'

Jean cocked up an eyebrow and shook his head. But there was the memory of Eren in his younger ears, all heart and rage. 'That hardboiled egg doesn't know when to give up.'

Marco nodded, searching the overcast sky for a glimpse of the stars.

'Of course, there were times when Eren looked plenty distracted.'

Jean didn't ask what those distractions were. He could take a hint.

'You don't need to tell me,' Jean said and began to narrate events from their childhood and college. 'The guy can't cheat either. Back at our university, I was assigned to be his scribe and the idiot dozes off in the middle of his exam. Can you believe that? And that's not even the end of it. When sleeping beauty finally wakes up, he blows his lid off just because I wrote the paper for him.'

Marco watched Jean closely.

'What?' the hazel eyed man asked uneasily.

'Sorry,' Marco apologized with a gentle smile. 'I was just wondering how… it must have been the toughest on you guys. Juggling two worlds. Pretending to be normal on the other side. Say, Jean… Why did you become a PeaceCorp?'

Jean smirked.

'Why did I become a PeaceCorp, huh? Well, they promised me a Jacuzzi.'

'That isn't the real reason, is it?'

Marco gave him a searching look, and Jean sobered up. He shook his head.

'No, the truth is… I wanted to be something more than the scrum. I guess I hate being mediocre.'

Marco nodded and after a moment of contemplation, he agreed

'I can relate.'

'You can?'

'Why do you think I take so much interest in Earth?'

The two men talked more about their past, Jean told Marco about his old man who died in the war against terrorism. He told Marco about his mum who was a dentist. The ashbrown even narrated all the pranks he had pulled over Eren and Armin through school while Marco talked about his books (at which Jean tried his hardest not to yawn).

They walked past a group of hobos and would have passed right along if they didn’t overhear the conversation. Jean's head snapped in the direction of the voice, and he saw four men displaying the badge of the Trost Military Police.

'Fellas, we are looking for someone,' one of the men in blue uniform addressed the surrounding crowd.

Jean caught Marco's sleeve and pulled the taller boy to a stop. Hiding under the awning of a shop and sinking into the shadows, they held their breaths and waited for the men to continue. The crowd of onlookers, agitated by the presence of the Military Police, were not entirely forthcoming with answers.

'Oh yeah, what makes you think we'll help you leeches?' one of the homeless demanded, shaking his fist in the air. 'What have you ever done for us?'

The men sneered.

'We assure that you will be adequately compensated for your troubles. Quid pro quo as the State believes.'

A murmur went about.

'Oh yeah? And who are you lookin' for, chaps?'

One of the men took a long drawl of the cigarette hanging from his lips. He reached into the pocket of his suit and took out a totem pole. With a flick of his hand, the reader lit up, and Jean recognized the 3D image projected into the air. It was the face grab of a familiar inkblot mask.

'We're searching for this guy. Someone who calls himself _Vigilante_. Heard of him?'

 

 

 

 

 

They braved the dance floor, circling the fountain at the very centre of the room. The string quartet played on, the violin sonata being too slow to Eren's liking. The girl in the red dress was a skilled dancing partner, light on her feet and quick to follow his cues. Eren wished he could say that for himself.

'Your good name?' she asked.

Eren knew that voice.  

It was awfully familiar.

'Uh… Alabaster,' he answered, as he spun her awkwardly.

'I see and what’s a nice guy like you doing here, Alabaster?' the young lady with the bird mask asked wryly.

Eren cringed when he stepped on the girl's foot for the third time in a row. He was sure he was going to do her tendon damage before the night draws to a close. 'Man, I’m really… really sorry. This is just too old school for me. I have never really danced— what the heck is _this_ called again?'

'Waltz,' the girl answered.

'Right. There you have it. I haven’t waltzed before. I’m a noob at this. Sorry for stepping on your toes all the time.'

'What kind of dance do you usually do?'

'Uh, hip hop?'

She looked at him in puzzlement.

Eren tried again.

'Break dancing? Harlem Shuffle? Anything ring a bell?'

'No.'

Eren gave a reluctant smile and realised his dancing partner probably couldn't see him smiling behind his mask.

'Never mind,' he said with a wave of his hand. 'They're pretty stupid moves anyway.'

Eren silently hoped that the Vigilante couldn't hear any of this embarrassing conversation. The line was quiet and Eren began to wonder where the man was holed up. With a sigh, the peacekeeper returned his attention to his partner.

'So, what's a nice girl like you doing at this snob fest?' he countered.

'I asked you the exact same thing, Eren.'

The peacekeeper froze and looked sharply at the girl. At no point in the conversation, had he ever revealed his real name. They stopped dancing, their choreography all ruined. Eren braced himself as his partner lifted the mask from her face, and Eren found the familiar face of Mikasa smiling at him.

'Hey John Doe,' she greeted.

The tension in his shoulders eased, and Eren broke into a genuine smile.

'Darn, no wonder you sounded so familiar.'

Mikasa Ackerman gazed long at him.

'I am glad I finally found you.'

Eren stood silent and gave a slow nod before placing a ginger hand on her waist and resuming the dance.

'But how the hell did you recognize me?' he asked.

Mikasa pulled her mask back down and placed a hand on his shoulder, allowing herself to be led. She leaned in and spoke in a quiet voice.

'For one, you were alone. For another, you were talking to yourself. And lastly—' she reasoned.

'Lastly?'

'I saw your face when you were gorging down food at the buffet table.'

'Damn,' Eren cursed, his voice alight with humor. 'Betrayed by the stomach. And it won't be the first time.'

Mikasa's hand clenched around his shoulder.

'I’m really relieved to see you, Eren. I was afraid something happened to you. Did you come here alone?'

The young man shook his head.

'No, I came with someone. Supposed to be my fucking date.'

Mikasa paused, scanning the dance floor.

'So, where is this companion of yours?'

Eren cast a dark look at the gallery. 'I don't know where he is. He could be leaping off buildings, doing an armed robbery, kidnapping someone—'

Eren didn't get to finish the list.

The smoke sensors were set off; the alarms began screeching over the music of the string quartet. The guests turned to the exit, but the doors and windows were already rolling close. _Someone,_ Eren suspected it to be the opera singer, shrieked and that’s when all hell broke loose. A mass hysteria took over.

'What in Nyse's name is going on?' a guard shouted to his peer from one end of the gallery to another.

'I don't know. The doors won't budge.'

'Contact control room.'

'I can't. All the lines are down.'

'What?'

‘Can’t contact Gale either.’

The woofers chortled and sent a screech of static in the air. Every one of the assembled clamped their hands over their ears and waited for the white noise to drown.

'Ten Seventeen,' spoke a smoky voice from the public announcement system. Eren recognized it instantly. 'Your attention please— swine, capitalists, dickwads. This whole building is under lock down. You can't call anyone, can't step out, and for fuck's sake, make my life easier and try not to.'

'Who the hell is this?' the guards asked to the woofers.

'Me?' there was a chuckle. 'You can call me Vigilante. The Hanging Man. Or Captain.'

A small pause.

'And a few deserving people get to even call me ' _sweetheart'_.'

Eren cast a smouldering glance at the speakers.

Mikasa Ackerman, one of the few who’d not given in to panic, turned to Eren with a questioning look.

Eren nodded with a sigh.

'— yeah or he might be taking the whole building hostage. That's him, alright.'

 

 

* * *

 


	65. Father's Day

 

Chapter-65- Father's Day

~.~

 

In the control room of the Ritz, a man sat reclined in a swivel chair and watched the surveillance screens, his face the very picture of calm. His legs were on the table, linked at the ankles, and as he clicked his toes together (the toes of his very expensive dress shoes), his gaze followed the grid of surveillance cameras. The screens showed running images of the gallery where the masquerade party had been taking place moments ago. Now, there was just mass hysteria left in the wake of music and laughter. Levi looked on in amusement as the crisis unfolded, tempers began to flare, and people shed their falsehoods to show their true colours. Some screamed and banged on the glass doors, demanding to be let out. Others curled up into balls, cowering behind tables and pillars, waiting for the fiasco to end.

He ought to feel sorry for them. It wasn't Levi's intention to involve bystanders. Yet, as he watched the socialites and VIPs plead at his feet like beggars, he didn't feel the least bit sympathy. Especially since he had seen them binge away on food and wine, seen them dance the night away in merriment. All while people in the subpars were struggling to survive.

Four men groaned behind him, writhing on the floor where they lay. The men had taken a hit from the blunt side of Levi's gun, a Krill 788— short muzzle and ribbed stock, while a fourth had to be subdued using more painful methods… but the men would survive despite the concussions. He took the mouthpiece again and searched the agitated crowd on the screens, seeking out one face among them.

He found Eren soon enough.

The brat was in the company of a girl in a red dress. Levi studied her dark hair, sharp, angled features. Her face looked familiar to him, but Levi couldn't register it.

The masked man's attention returned to Eren Jaeger, and it stayed there. The man drank in the sight of that flattering tuxedo, and he rued why they’d never done this 'date' thing before. Clearly, Eren ought to wear suits more often. Dance more. Smile more of that sunshine smile of his. Even if Levi wouldn't be there to see any of it. And at that depressing thought, the expression behind his mask furrowed.

His gaze lingered long on the young man— Eren looking as confused as the rest of the guests— before Levi forced himself to look away. He switched the mouthpiece on and began speaking.

'If you chickenshits and white feathers have calmed down,' he paused, allowing his audience to look up at the speakers. '— it’s my turn to speak.’

There was a heavy silence. Levi was aware of one of the guards stirring behind him.

Removing his feet from the table, the Vigilante turned to the screens and addressed the crowd.

'I need one man from among you. Goes by the name Hoffstead, Abel Hoffstead. Are you listening, Abel?'

At first, there had been a nervous silence with people exchanging glances. Levi watched as a person raised his hand meekly. The crowd parted for the tall man to emerge from its thick. Looking to be somewhere in his mid-fifties, the greying man took off his bowler hat and his phantom of the opera mask, revealing his long white hair tied in a ponytail and a full beard. The man squinted at the camera.

'Y-Yes, I am listening,' Abel offered.

Levi smiled behind his mask.

'Not bad, you owned up to your name,' he said tersely.

'Dear man! What do you want from me? I'm j-just a horticulturist,' Abel demanded, his voice shaky.

Levi gave a chuckle in derision.

'I’m aware of how much of a horticulturist you are, Hoffstead. Step up to the main door. Guards,' the Vigilante warned, watching the men in green uniform stiffen behind Abel, '— I don't want any funny business. Stick to the walls. Make one move and you’ll regret it.'

The guards at the gala dinner shuffled to the back of the gallery and did as they were told.

'Hurry up, Hoffstead, we don't have all day,' Levi snapped to the fidgeting man in the screen.

Abel Hoffstead nodded uneasily and approached the door.

Levi flicked a switch on the surveillance’s control board and turning to the monitors, he watched the glass doors before Hoffstead slide open.

Abel gave the crowd behind him a confused glance. Mustering his courage and saying a quiet prayer to himself, the man stepped out. The doors closed shut as soon as he passed the perimeter of the gallery. The crowd let out a whimper.

In the control room, the guard was on his feet now. There was a movement. A chair lifted. He took a step. A second step. Annoyed, the Vigilante rose from his seat and turned swift. At the sight of the resilient guard trying to make one last ditch effort at ousting him, Levi gave a grunt. He almost smiled at the man's temerity, at the foolhardiness. The Vigilante grabbed one leg of the chair and slammed it back against the assailant. The guard found himself reeling back until he collided with the wall, grunting, and collapsed into a noiseless heap.

'Word of advice,' the Vigilante spoke into the silence, flicking the dirt off his gloves irately. 'Sleeping dogs should remain down... if you know what's good for you.'

Sighing, Levi walked back to the table, grabbed the mouthpiece and flicked it on. He scanned the screens and spoke to the man standing before the gallery.

'Hoffstead,' he called. 'Room 752. I’ll be waiting.'

 

 

 

 

 

Eren had a sinking feeling that he'd been dumped.

The man had a plan alright. The most devious of devious plans; the most cunning of all evil plans. And it involved not letting Eren Jaeger in on the fucking plan. He felt like the most useless sidekick in the history of... well, _useless_ sidekicks. The creep had wanted to shelve him all along. Eren's suspicions deepened when there was suddenly no voice on the link. No one teasing or flirting with him. Eren moved to a quiet spot behind an ice sculpture of Lady Titania, a winged woman with a generous bust. And as he kept out of earshot of the sobbing opera singer beside him, Eren tried to evoke a response from the link.

'Captain?' he hissed, pressing two fingers against his ear.

No answer.

'CAPTAIN!' he called a little louder.

Silence.

'This is not funny. You can't abandon me out here—'

Nothing.

'Answer me, dammit!'

He might as well have talked to the walls.

Eren scowled and yanked away the earpiece, stuffing it into his tux's pockets. His hand brushed against the rose tucked in his buttonhole and he drew it out, staring long at it. What the hell was going on? This was not the terms he’d agreed to. All Eren wanted was to assist the Vigilante in his god forsaken crusade. But how was he supposed to assist when the creep couldn't even trust him?

A wave of determination came over Eren. With his golden mask still shrouding his face, the young man stormed over to the closed glass doors— doors that had not opened for anyone since Abel Hoffstead had been drawn out.

Eren swung a foot at the glass doors. He nudged, kicked and yelled at the doors... but nothing happened. It was at that moment when he heard a mechanical whirr. He turned to see a surveillance camera moving its arm, trying to train its lens upon him.

'Asshole!' he mouthed, looking at the camera.

'Jerk!' Eren said, flipping his middle finger at the lens.

'Open the friggin' door!' he said, pointing to the glass.

The doors remained as they were and did not budge.

When Eren turned around, he realised that the entire gallery of Titan high society was looking at him, awed and inspired. These men and women— bureaucrats, high ranking politicos and VIPs were gazing at him in ardour as if he were a hero.

'How brave,' the opera singer mumbled, dabbing a handkerchief at her running mascara. 'You're so brave, young man.'

'Huh?' Eren bleated, looking quizzically at all of them.

Mikasa walked up to him, sidling to his side. 'Any luck?' she whispered.

Eren shook his head and lifted his mask a little to give her a frown.

'No, I have this sick feeling that... I got stood up,' he joked, though his voice sounded taut and strained even to himself.

Mikasa watched him but said nothing.

'Sorry—' Eren said, looking at the closed exits again. 'Seems like we're really stuck here.'

'It's not your fault, Eren. Don’t apologize,' Mikasa told him. 'So, what do we do now?' she asked.

Their conversation was interrupted when a girl with wavy strawberry blond hair squeezed through the crowd to reach them. Dressed in a long, one shoulder yellow gown, embellished waist, and watteau train, the girl had a bouncy spring in every step as she made her way towards them.

'Ackerman!' she said, giggling hard and waving her hand fiercely in the air. 'Well, well, well... what a pleasant surprise.'

At the nudge from Mikasa, Eren pulled down his mask hurriedly, hiding his face.

'Fascinating turn of events, eh?' the newcomer chirped. 'When my boss told me to cover a page three socialite party, I thought this was going to be a _boring_ and droll assignment but lookie, who would have thought we would find ourselves in the middle of a hostage situation. Exciting much?'

Eren looked at Mikasa, asking her mutedly who the weirdo was.

Mikasa gave a sigh and made the introductions.

'Uh, this is Hitch, a reporter from UN20x7.'

'UN what?' Eren asked.

'Ulkridge News—twenty seven,' Hitch answered, looking revolted that Eren hadn’t heard about her news channel. But her annoyance waned soon enough, and Hitch smiled chivalrously at him. 'That's right. UN20x7 where we cover breaking news from celebrity break-ups to...' she cast a delighted glance at the gallery of frightened people— '... hot off-the-press kidnappings.'

Eren took a cautious step backwards.

He bet superhero sidekicks did not get themselves cornered by the press either.

Hitch gave the peacekeeper a long glance.

'Uh, honey, you can take off your mask now. It's safe to assume that the party is over,' she enlightened him.

Eren froze up. It did look suspicious that he was keeping his mask on. But showing his face to a member of the press sounded like poor judgement.

Thankfully, Mikasa stepped in. She looped an arm around his.

'He has anxiety issues. He’s... having tics from all the stress.'

'Is that so?' said Hitch, looking curiously at Eren. She nodded along, staring suspiciously at the boy with the golden mask, and turned to Mikasa, making a digital notebook and redux pen appear out of thin air. 'So, any idea who this Vigilante is? Or the man Hoffstead? Gale has no information on either of them. Clearly, they are using aliases.'

Mikasa scrunched up her nose.

'Hitch, our priority should be the safety of the people here. Not a scoop.'

Hitch chuckled, flicking a strand of hair out of her face. When it came to morality or getting a good story, her inclinations were well-known in her circle. 'As if we're going to get a juicy story like this ever again. Oh, come on, Ackerman. Grow some balls.'

Mikasa curled her lip.

‘Why don’t you grow some tact instead, Hitch?’

Mikasa threw her a dirty look before the raven-haired girl took Eren's elbow and led him to a secluded corner behind a pillar. She cast a nervous glance at the crowd, keeping an eye especially out for Hitch. The brown-haired keeper from Earth watched her in amusement.

'I forgot. You're a reporter too, aren't you?' he said.

Mikasa returned a small nod.

'Yes... but not right now.'

Eren gave her a sidelong glance. 'Is this why you get me out of trouble every time? I mean, we are practically strangers. You want a story from me?'

The smile that Mikasa gave him was small and brittle. She watched Eren as he looked at the false ceiling, tracing the line from the chandeliers to the dome, searching for a way out. The reporter hugged her middle and decided to come out with the truth, the truth that she should have told him eons ago.

'Eren, we’re not exactly _strangers_.'

He scoffed in amusement.

'Of course, we aren’t. You've rescued me plenty of times already,' the brunet remarked as he turned and studied the ventilators.

Mikasa shook her head, her next words coming out strained, voice halting.

'No, that's not what I meant— Eren, I need to talk to you... about your father.'

There was a silence. A tense silence.

At the mention of his father, Eren turned to her sharp, trying to read the expression on the reporter’s face. Mikasa fidgeted with the strap of her clutch, her sloppily cut dark hair obscuring her eyes from view.

‘My father?’ he repeated, the words rolling out of his mouth like acid. 'There’s nothing to talk about. My dad is dead,' Eren finally said.

The reporter shook her head firmly. 

'He is not dead, but Grisha needs your help, Eren. He is in trouble—'

Eren let out a snort and interrupted her. 'Sorry, Mikasa. My dad is dead _to me_. He's been dead for a long time because I haven't even seen him over years. And I would really appreciate it if you won't mention his name again.’

'Won't you even let me explain?' Mikasa hissed in anguish. 'This is really important, Eren.' 

The peacekeeper bowed out, refusing to listen.

'Save it, Mikasa. I'm just trying to find a way out of here.'

Mikasa grabbed his elbow in a vice-like grip and looked at him, her expression pained as if begging him to reconsider. But Eren wouldn’t.  Deeming the conversation to be closed, the brunet pulled himself away and walked to the southern wall of the gallery. He looked up at the ventilator chutes. 

Mikasa joined his side and watched the boy gauge its height.

'That’s an inlet, right?' Eren asked, looking at the shaft.

Mikasa stared at it quizzically before she noticed the air wafting from the ventilator.

The girl nodded and turned to him.

'Tell me what you need, Eren.'

The peacekeeper looked around at the gallery, trying to work out a way.

'What I need... is a human pyramid.'

 

 

 

 

It took a human pyramid of six men to hoist the boy with the golden mask all the way up to the ventilator shaft. Eren Jaeger removed the bolts and the screws with the aid of a toothpick and a fork, unhinged the casing and realised (much to his surprise) that there were people cheering him on. When he scooted forward and climbed in to the narrow chute, Eren looked back briefly to find a crowd gathered under him and... they were yelling encouragement. It occurred to Eren Jaeger that he was being relegated as a hero.

'So brave, so enterprising,' he heard the opera singer say. The large woman sniffled against her handkerchief, looking at him in nothing short of adoration. 'Such agency. If there were only more like him—'

'Give that bastard a left and a right, ya hear?' said Old Bloke A.

'Yeah and don't forget to get us out too!' reminded Old Bloke B, pulling scruffily at his necktie.

'You're going to take on this _Vigilante_ all alone, young man?' asked another, concerned for his safety.

Eren nodded before he caught himself.

'What? No...' he said and at their confused expressions, he reiterated. 'I mean, _yeah_. Damn right. I'll kick his ass and rescue you guys.'

The girl Hitch came bounding forward, the watteau of her gown trailing behind her. She held a small camera in her hand.

'And what would be our saviour's name? Any comments for the viewers of UN20x7?'

Eren stilled for a small moment, trying to come up with something witty to say.

'Comments, huh? Okay, how about this... In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight. Let those who worship evil's might, beware my power, Green Lantern's light!' he struck up a pose of the comic book hero.

Grinning behind his mask, he gave his captivated audience a mock salute. 'Cos that's what I am. GREEN LANTERN. To infinity and beyond.'

The crowd broke into cheers and whistles. Eren smiled behind his golden mask, turned and began the crawl through the ventilator chute.

When the young man had disappeared through the chute, Hitch lowered her camera with a hint of disappointment. She walked up to her rival Mikasa. 'Darn. I didn't get a proper visual of him. What a corny guy though,' Hitch said, turning to her. 'Who was he, by the way?'

Mikasa was looking at the napkin that Eren had hurriedly left with her.

Isabel Magnolia

Chromium Shark

Maria

'My brother,' was all Mikasa said.

 

 

 

 

 

Levi turned off the faucet and walked out of the bathroom of room 752. He adjusted his opera scarf and forced a calm demeanour despite the alarms blaring in the corridor. Someone had breached security and escaped confinement. Who?

The question didn't remain a riddle for long.

Because who else would break all his rules except that one troublemaker.

Eren stood panting and breathless outside the door. At the sight of the inkblot face, the young peacekeeper took off his golden mask and tossed it away furiously. His suit was sullied with dirt, scraped at the elbows and his hands showed signs of abrasion. The gelled hair was dishevelled, and the young man looked livid.

'You jerk...' Eren cursed, panting as he doubled over a little to gain his breath. 'Why couldn't you answer me? And next time, you want to take over a building, can you please have the elevators working? I just climbed forty floors, you goddam sadist. That's FORTY FLOORS on foot!'

Levi gauged the youngster under the yellow lights of the suite before shaking his head in disappointment and leaving for the living room.

Eren glowered at the man's back. Heck, he didn't just crawl through a ventilator, run up forty flight of stairs all to be ignored.

The boy followed him.

'Hey, I'm talking to you. Don't walk away from this conversation, you creep!'

Eren stopped speaking when he realised they weren't quite alone. The old man with the beard— Abel Hoffstead sat on a chair handcuffed to the armrest. At Eren's appearance, the captive stiffened and raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Eren frowned as he turned to the Vigilante.

'So, this was your whole plan? Kidnapping a horticulturist? We came all the way to Ulkridge for this old goof?' Eren asked, pointing to the hostage.

If Abel Hoffstead was offended at being called 'an old goof', he didn't let on.

The Vigilante snorted at Eren's choice of words. The masked man checked the window, pulling the curtains slightly. 'If Hoffstead is a horticulturist, I am Mael, Lord of this Sun Kingdom. And no, kidnapping him wasn't the whole plan. Getting rid of you was part of the scheme too, earthling. But I forgot you're a boomerang. A goddam boomerang, Jaeger.'

It took a long moment for the words to sink in. And when they did, Eren stared at the man in disbelief.

'Getting rid of me?' Eren repeated. 'GETTING RID OF ME?' he croaked, shaking his head. 'That was your whole plan?'

'Yes. A substantial part of it.'

Eren looked at the masked man, aghast.

'What about the honeymoon suite... and— and the date thing. What was all that about?'

The Vigilante shrugged in nonchalance.

'I thought you deserved a nice little treat before our _painful_ separation.'

Eren strode over to the man and caught his green scarf, giving it a violent tug.

'You're an asshole,' Eren said and breathed through his mouth, trying to keep his anger in check despite failing at it miserably. 'You're like the worst. That's what you are, Captain. In fact, if there's anyone who is worse than you, it has to be—' Eren didn't finish that sentence, but they both knew what he’d have said. There was a tense moment as they stared at each other guardedly, sizing the other up.

The Vigilante said nothing.

Eren glared.

'And what were you planning to tell my friends, huh? _Oops, sorry,_ I lost your buddy during the mission?'

The Vigilante appraised him and sighed.

'We don't have the time for this argument, kid,' the inkblot face reminded him.

Eren gave a low growl.

'You wanted a companion, sir, and I came here to _help_ you! You promised me your aid in finding him.'

The Vigilante shook his head and cast an inscrutable look at him.

'I promised nothing, sunflower. And I’m sure you were being a great help while you were fraternising with the rich. So how was the dance? You seemed to be having fun. Who was the girl?’

Eren looked at the masked man in exasperation.

'Look, buster. Don't make this out to be my fault. You're the one who still can't trust me.'

The Vigilante scoffed. 'Trust you?' the masked man repeated. 'TRUST you? How can I trust you when your little Houdini stunt just set the alarms off and tipped off the Military Police?'

Eren bit his lower lip, searching for a suitable retort.

'You know what,' the brunet finally said and relieved his hold on the Vigilante's scarf. 'Screw you.'

There was an audible snort.

'Heh. I’m sure you _want_ to.'

At this, Eren snarled and lunged for the man again.

The horticulturist, who was not really a horticulturist, cleared his throat. 'Uh, hello, bound man here. I am very sorry to interrupt your lover's quarrel—'

'We are NOT lovers!' Eren snapped at their hostage.

'Right,' said Abel, grimacing. 'But pray, may I remind you that the emergency task force has a response time of five minutes.'

'Five minutes,' Eren repeated, looking at the Vigilante in anguish. 'That's not enough time to go back to the TJ, is it?'

The Vigilante ignored him and stalked over to their captive. He unlocked the handcuffs, freeing Abel Hoffstead from the chair.

'Well, sunflower,' the masked man said. 'The TJ is a two-seater. Unless you were planning to sit on my lap...'

Eren glared.

'I'd rather sit on the old man.'

The horticulturist looked appalled at the very idea. 'I would appreciate it immensely if _no one_ sits on my lap,' the old man bleated in chagrin.

The Masked Vigilante yanked Abel to his feet roughly.

'And no one asked for your opinion, shitface.'

There was an awkward silence as the men considered the options.

Eren noticed the old man looking at him.

'What?' the younger demanded of their hostage.

'Your last name is Jaeger? You are related to Grisha?'

Eren licked his lips, turning away. 'Sorry. I don't know anyone by that name.'

The old man was still watching him fervently.

'No, you are his son, aren't you? He had an earthborn child, I was told. I can see him in you. Your father had that mad look in his eyes too,' Abel Hoffstead remarked, stroking his beard in quiet wonder. 'Grisha Jaeger's prodigy.'

Eren didn't respond and scratched his elbow furiously. He swallowed the dryness in his throat, keeping his eyes on the wall. 'What the heck is it with today? Is it Father's day or something?' he muttered in the tense quiet between them.

The Vigilante heard him and paused to look at Eren.

There was a sound outside. The unmistaken sound of engines revving and sirens as they approached. Tires skidded on the road, and the three men could hear the buzz of drone crafts circling The Ritz. A sneak peek at the window confirmed their worst suspicions. They were surrounded by a mob of Military Police, and the emergency task force were already trickling in through every orifice of the building.

Eren turned to the Captain, feeling a little guilty about the mishap he'd brought on them.

'What do we do now?' he urged, trying to sound calmer than he felt.

The Vigilante eyed their captive.

'Pipe down. There's still a way out. Isn't that right, Grey Baron?'

Abel Hoffstead grimaced at the name. He looked up at the two of them and sneered.

'Colour me stupid. What makes you think I'll _help_ you, outlaws?'

The Vigilante reached into his overcoat, his hand emerging out with the gun. He caught the captive's neck, pointed the muzzle of the Krill at the man's temple, digging it in painfully, and gave a low chuckle.

'What makes you think I'll keep you alive if you don't cooperate, Mr Horticulturist?' the Vigilante countered snidely.

There was a silence; the threat seemed to settle the deal. The older man gave a resigned sigh and looked at Eren.

'Fine, I’ll help you. Provided this boy has the key.'

 

 

 

* * *

 


	66. Earthborn

 

 

Chapter- 66- Earthborn

~.~

 

The key.

His Frodo key.

Eren pressed a hand over the metal of his key as they took the service elevator down, the only one functioning in the shutdown. They could hear small explosions ripple through the floors of The Ritz as the military task force of Titan employed force to enter the building. The hotel shook and shuddered; the elevator screeched in its tunnel, and Eren Jaeger felt the beginnings of panic course through him. The peacekeeper grabbed his elbows and shrunk back against a corner, watching the lights flicker. They could crash and burn any moment; they could be gunned down by snipers... or worse, be captured alive by the military. And if he were to be produced before Titan's high courts again, Eren was sure he wouldn't escape the guillotine. No, not this time. Because this time, he was acting out of the bounds of law. Because this time, there would be no Levi to defend him before a grand jury. And this time, Eren Jaeger would deserve whatever punishment the State meted out to him.

_Chop, chop._

_There goes the head._

Eren didn't know what had possessed him in offering up his services to the masked man. Clearly, Eren had met his match, the Vigilante being more suicidal than Eren was. The man was operating alone on uncharted territory; yet, the Vigilante remained unfazed and showed not a hint of weakness. The inkblot face held the same pattern, its gaze fixed on the elevator's display, watching the floor numbers trickle down. Always a reservoir of calm. Eren wished he could emulate the man. But this whole being a renegade thing was new to the brunet. Eren Jaeger, PeaceCorp of 104th squadron, had been taught how to slay machines and disarm potential threats that could leak through the gateways. Not how to carry out a kidnapping stint. Days earlier, he had been an honourable soldier sworn to the State. But now, Eren had turned into a fugitive, was holding a horticulturist hostage and was being hunted by the very regime that had adopted him as a stepson. He was no longer just a troublemaker. He was now the rabid dog off its leash, that the Titan State wanted to put down fast. His life seemed to have veered dangerously off course and seemed to be straying farther and farther into the realm of the criminal and unconstitutional.

Eren went bitter and suppressed a laugh.

Unwittingly, he’d ended up just like his father.

Eren watched the Vigilante, the man's body language as unreadable as his face. Eren didn't know why, but he caught the masked man looking his way twice. Why?

Abel Hoffstead, the hostage, oddly looked calmer than both his captors.

Eren didn't get why they were doing any of this. The peacekeeper looked up as the numbers trickled down.

14

13

12

11

And as they descended towards the basement, he could feel the slight tremor in his key. A vibration. Like the pull of a magnet. Eren recognised that familiar feeling.

'A gateway,' he hissed in disbelief. 'There's a gateway here?' he asked, turning to the horticulturist.

Abel Hoffstead nodded and turned to the elevator doors, looking at them in anticipation.

Eren gauged him in surprise. 'Hold on,' the brunet said. 'How does a layman even know about the gateways? Who are you?'

The man kept smiling and stroked his beard, his voice whimsical.

'How do I know?' he repeated. 'Why, you’re slow on the uptake, son. Haven’t you realised yet?’

'Realised what?'

'That I helped design the gateways, son.'

Eren stared.

'And not just me—'

At those words, the Vigilante brought his gun up and aimed it against Abel's head. He tapped the muzzle on the man's temple, reminding the captive of his place.

'That's enough from you, dickwad,' warned the masked man.

'Is it? Is it really... _enough_?' challenged the hostage, a deep scowl making its way across his face. Abel Hoffstead turned to Eren, watching the young man with a strange fervour. Realisation dawned on him, his features wrinkling as he studied the brown-haired boy in the tuxedo. 'Doesn't the boy deserve to know? Isn't it ludicrous that Jaeger's own son isn't even aware of how great his father was—'

The man hissed in pain when the gun dug harder into his skull.

'I said that's enough,' the Vigilante reminded him edgily. 'You think you have time to be mouthing off?'

The wizened man gave a sardonic chuckle.

'Ha. I’m not the one running out of time, stranger.'

The Vigilante scoffed. 'Mark my words. You rat us out, I won't think twice about taking you down with me. You get me?'

Abel did not protest the threat and grunted a 'yes'. But his eyes remained glued to the Vigilante's second face.

'Quench my curiosity, dear man. But what exactly is your purpose?'

'My purpose?'

'Yes,' Abel breathed. 'Where is your allegiance? Who are you working for?'

The masked man lowered the gun and instead, drew out the handcuffs from his overcoat. He fastened one end to the hostage's arm, locking the brace over the man's pale wrist and the other end to his own gloved hand. The Vigilante lifted the handcuffs and tested the bond between them. He looked back at Abel, the pattern on the masked face changing into that of a butterfly splotch.

'I’m on no one's leash. I’m my own ruler.'

 

 

_Of this new world; at whose sight all the stars_

_Hide their diminished heads, to thee I call,_

_But with no friendly voice and add thy name-_

_O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams,_

_That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell,_

_Warring in Heav'n against Heaven's matchless king._

Book IV, Paradise Lost.

 

 

 

Eren watched the two men in silence, feeling the beginnings of a dull ache in his head. Secrets again. But this time, Eren couldn't bring himself to care. The State was a can of worms, one he could do without. Especially when his father's name kept coming up in the conversation. If there was one thing the peacekeeper wished he could do— it was to wipe out that last name of his. It didn't matter how great Grisha Jaeger was. It didn't matter to Eren, because in the end, the man was a lousy father who’d deserted his family and was the sole reason for Eren's mother being institutionalised. Old wounds ran deep, and Eren had let those wounds fester long enough.

He was tired of being called the son, tired of being the prodigious offspring. He didn't need that title. He didn't want to be valued for it. And perhaps, here was the real reason Eren had been so upset with Levi that fateful day. Why he’d smashed their home with a baseball bat.

Because it hurt.

In this duplicitous world of Titan that had seen Eren only as Grisha Jaeger's son, Levi was the only one who’d treated Eren as something more. Like a human. But the Titan Repository file had brought home the harsh truth. Levi had sold him out too… in ways worse than everyone else.

So, why was Eren still searching for him?

For answers?

For the apology that never came?

To return to a paradise built on lies and bullshit?

Eren turned towards the Vigilante, studying the man in silence.

What if Levi was right there before him?

And what if he... wasn't?

What if Eren was falling in love with someone else?

Love.

Eren forced himself to steer away from those thoughts. No, this wasn't the time or place for those questions.

The service elevator stopped at level zero, the basement parking lot for the land vehicles. It wasn't as empty as they would have liked it to be. There were two guards cocooned in a communications van, preoccupied with radioing orders to the special task force inside, their voices loud.

'Yes, Lieutenant. We have secured the levels. We’ve cordoned off the control room. Our snipers are on standby and are issued orders to shoot on sight.'

Eren's eyes widened a little, his throat going painfully dry. The peacekeeper did not wish to be shot on sight. Or shot at all, for that matter.

'Any sign of the suspects?'

'No sir.'

'What about the hostages at the art gala?'

'Being interrogated, sir. We have checked the guest list and confirmed the presence of all but three.'

'And the missing names?'

'Dr. Abel Hoffstead, Alabaster Rupert and President Michael Keene of Mechatronics Inc.'

For the first time in his life, Eren was glad for the dopey name of Alabaster. And he prayed to god that the alias wasn't real. Because if there really was an Alabaster Rupert out there, Eren had just committed his namesake to a lifetime in jail.

At the Vigilante's nudge to keep moving, Abel gave an annoyed grunt. The wizened old man began leading them away from the artillery van. They ducked their way past an empty guard booth and disappeared behind the motley of concrete pillars. Wordlessly, Abel Hoffstead manoeuvred past landrovers and freight vans, leading them to a remote corner of the hotel's basement parking lot with Eren struggling to keep in tow while guarding their backs. As they ducked and careened their way through, the young man caught a glimpse of himself in the tinted windows and the sight didn't soothe his strained nerves. Eren wished he would stop looking like a petrified deer.

Abel Hoffstead finally led them to a bracket wall.

He turned to Eren briefly.

'Do you feel it?' the man asked, breaking into a slow, ill-conceived smile.

'Feel what?' Eren said, studying the wall in puzzlement.

But he knew what the man was talking about. The peacekeeper could feel the electromagnetic pull of the gateway from miles away.

It was here, alright.

Abel Hoffstead held out his hand.

'Can I have the key?' he asked politely.

In reflex, Eren's hand went to his neck, wrapping around the key protectively. He cast a doubtful glance at the Vigilante who kept an eye out for the task force. The masked man turned to Eren and gave a curt nod in assurance.

'It's fine. Give it to him.'

'But—' Eren began to protest.

'Do it!' came the impatient order.

After one last beleaguering glance at the key and the masked man, Eren nodded. He slipped the string off his neck and placed the gate key in Abel Hoffstead's outstretched hand.

The elder accepted it, looking calm despite the glimmer in his eyes. He didn't spare a moment and went to work immediately, pulling the gateway into view and unlocking it.

There was the crack of energy as the vortex opened. The dark void widened with a blast of cold air, and Eren could feel the pull of the chasm. And there it was, that familiar anxiety filling him. Annie's attack had left its repercussions: Eren felt a chill come over him at the sight of the void. He’d almost died in there, almost consumed by the darkness. And now, he was going back in. Though his work in Titan was still unfinished.

Abel stepped in fearlessly and pulled in, via the handcuffs, the Vigilante.

Eren didn't like this idea anymore.

'Where are we going now?' the peacekeeper asked, as the masked man stepped in to the void. 'Are we going to... Earth? But Captain, I can't go back. My work here isn’t done. I can't go back without finding him—'

A gloved hand caught his tuxedo arm, cutting short all his protests. The shrouded fingers slipped to his wrist and gripped it firmly, pulling the boy into the chasm of darkness.

 

 

 

 

The trip to the bedroom was different this time. While ordinarily he would be the one carrying her upstairs bridal style, this time Bertolt Hoover was the one being supported. With his arm wrapped around her small shoulder, the tall man let the girl guide their way upstairs. He didn't mind this reversal of roles. To last in a relationship with Annie Leonhart, one had to make these small sacrifices. To have a shot with Annie Leonhart aka Wonder Woman, his pride was but a small price to pay.

'One step at a time,' she said as they took to the stairs.

But if there was one thing Bertolt didn't like, it was to be reduced to an invalid. To be reduced to a weakling. He tried to be ambitious and ventured to climb the stairs without her assistance. To prove to her that he was still capable of being her partner, her lover, her dad, whatever the hell she wanted him to be.

'I SAID one step!' Annie snapped, her grip around his shoulders pulling him to a stop.

Bertolt flinched under her glare and gave a nauseated nod.

That was the second lesson you learned in a relationship with Annie. Never piss her off. Never try to outdo yourself in front of her.

'What were you trying to do, you overgrown giraffe? Are you trying to kill yourself?' she reproached him.

And there was the name calling. A prouder man would have felt insulted. But Bertolt knew, this was the closest to a romantic Annie could ever be.

'Sorry,' he mumbled and managed a small smile. A smile that was bound to mollify her. Because like a matador would know his bull, Bertolt knew her. And it worked its charm.

Annie rolled her eyes and sighed.

'It's alright,' said the girl.

Annie swept a hand over her face, regretting the loss of her temper. 'How are you feeling?' she asked, as they took another step up at a snail’s pace. He laced his fingers with hers and smiled despite himself. 'I just got out of—' he wheezed as he felt the constricted feeling surge across his chest. They waited for the pain to subside, Annie tightening her hold across his shoulder. He breathed hard and felt his vision go hazy. Blinking twice, he smiled again. 'I... just got out of chemotherapy. And you're asking me how I am feeling? Please tell me that was a rhetorical question.'

Annie watched him solemnly.

'Yeah, dumb question,’ she said and nudged him forward. ‘Come on, Yeti. Just a couple more.'

They made it through the last flight of stairs, past the rickety door of their bedroom. Bertolt half collapsed on his covers, panting hard as he watched Annie lift his feet and take off his boots. There was still so much about her that surprised him, caught him unawares. Like how diligent and quiet she could be. He graced her with a slow smile.

'If you were going to look this cute as a nurse, I should have gotten cancer earlier.'

Annie stopped and looked at him sharp. She didn't take well to his morbid humour.

'Was that supposed to be funny?'

Bertolt sighed, letting his head flop back on the bed.

Annie swore like a sailor as she untied the laces to his boot. 'If you want to go back to the hospital that bad, Mr Hoover...' she warned. 'Mind you, I can arrange it.'

'I won't contest that,' Bertolt said with a chuckle.

Annie took off both his boots and arranged them neatly at the foot of the bed.

When she was done, she straightened her head and looked at him with those stern eyes of hers. 'Why do you have to say stuff like that?'

'Christ, Annie. It was a joke. I was trying to lighten up the mood.'

'Muppets are funny; Simpsons are hilarious. You... are _not_ ,' she said, turning her back to him and sat down on the floor, curling against the bed. All he could see of her now was the top of her blonde head.

Bertolt prodded her head with a foot.

'What?' she barked in annoyance, without rising from her seat.

'Smile for me,' he said, with another nudge of his foot. 'I haven't seen you smile in months.'

'Is that your deathwish?'

'Maybe, it is,' he said, giving another nudge.

'Do that again, and I'll slice your toes off.'

She could. She totally could, Bertolt knew.

Bertolt winced and gave a tight lipped smile. 'Annie?'

'What?'

'Any chance of you wearing a nurse outfit tonight?'

There was a silence, and Bertolt was surprised when there was no cutting reply.

'And here I thought you'd have gotten sick of people in scrubs already.'

Bertolt hummed thoughtfully and pressed an elbow to his eyes. 'Sorry, it was a stupid suggestion. I have had enough of hospitals...'

Annie turned her head and watched him. Bertolt nodded and directed her attention towards the dresser.

'Top drawer on the left. Can you get something for me?'

'What is it?' Annie asked as she rose and made her way to it.

'There's a file. Read it for me.'

Annie opened the drawer and with a quizzical frown, she took out the folder from its depths. Her expression was unreadable as she scanned the papers.

'What’s this?'

Bertolt sat up against the headboard, watching her carefully.

'Nomination papers. In the event of my—' he pulled a face. '— untimely death, this house will be yours. And my savings too. Well, whatever is left of it. There isn't much, Annie but—'

The girl grew visibly distraught. She dropped the folder back into the drawer and slammed it shut, the sound echoing through the silence of their bedroom.

'Shut up. Please shut up.'

Bertolt sighed.

'Annie, we need to have this conversation.'

'Enough,' Annie snapped, pressing her hands against her ears. 'You're not dying. NOT dying!'

The tall man let slip a sympathetic smile.

'Annie, I’m trying to be practical here.'

'No, you are being a defeatist,' she spat out and pointed a furious finger at him. 'The next thing I know you'll be preparing the guest list for your funeral. Or what flowers you want. Or where you want to be buried. Or—' Annie stopped speaking and swept a hand over her face. Bertolt saw it then, the tears of the icequeen trailing down her cheeks. 'Don't do this to me,' she said in a low voice.

'Annie,' Bertolt called as he watched her leave. 'Where— Where are you going?'

She paused at the door, her hand wrapped tightly around the knob.

'Getting that nurse outfit. Wait for me, alright?'

Bertolt watched the door close after her.

She didn't return that night.

Or the night after that.

 

 

 

 

 

In the kitchen of Chromium Shark, a robotic dog lay belly up on the dining table. Isabel Magnolia wrinkled her nose at the machine carcass on her table. She was having her customary iced tea, her eyes flitting above the porcelain cup to the clock on the wall. She hoped both _hermano_ and _guapo_ were doing alright. The redhead turned to Armin who was looking frazzled as he tinkered with his machine.

'Armin, you've been trying to fix that for days!'

The short boy scowled.

'I don't exactly have a PhD in alien technology, you know.'

'What exactly is this thing supposed to be?' Isabel asked as she strode over and peeked over his shoulder.

 _'This thing_ is supposed to be Eren's dog,' Armin said in a low voice. 'I promised him I would fix it.'

Isabel smiled at him, impressed by how solid a worker Armin was.

'Do you need an extra hand?'

Armin turned to her sharply. 'Wait. You can _help_ me? Why didn’t you tell me before!'

'Not me, _chaparrito_. But Hunter can. He's good with machines; we used to call him scissor-hands back in the day. It was Captain who taught him after all,' Isabel's gaze darted to the clock again, and she began to look perturbed. 'I’m worried about your friends, Armin. They should have returned hours ago.'

'My friends?' Armin repeated, frowning.

'Aren't they?'

'Not really,' Armin said, without blinking.

Isabel gave him a look of disbelief.

'What about Marco?'

'He is my best friend's best friend,' Armin pointed out grouchily.

'And Mr Grumpy— Jean?'

'Jean is the guy next door and an arrogant ass.'

He heard Isabel make a small sound of disapproval.

There was a silence, and Armin went back to fiddling with Krobe's circuitry.

A long moment passed before the sound of porcelain breaking startled him. The blond boy removed the protective goggles from his face and looked up at Isabel Magnolia. The woman had let the tea cup slip from her fingers, and she was staring at the shards littered on the floor. Her face was pale, eyes going wide as they remained glued to the broken pieces at her feet.

Armin stood up and eyed the mess on the ground.

'It’s cool. Don't worry. I will take care of it,' he said, hunting around the kitchen for the mop.

But the woman remained frozen in her place.

Armin turned to her uncertainly.

'You okay, Ms Isabel?'

The innkeeper turned to Armin and scrunched up her face, tears squeezing their way out of the corner of her bright, green eyes.

'Oh, _chaparrito_. It broke.'

Armin frowned.

'Yeah, I can see that. Thanks for stating the obvious.'

'No,' she said, placing a hand on the counter to borrow support. Isabel closed her eyes as if in pain. 'My water... it just broke.'

Armin stared at the woman, his blue eyes traveling to her midsection.

'Fuck,' said the saint.

 

 

* * *

 


	67. Ghosts

 

Chapter- 67- Ghosts

~.~

 

The first thing Jean and Marco heard when they entered the threshold of the inn was not the usual 'welcome back' or 'where the hell have you been?' or 'did you get the mushroom jam tart?'. The words they heard were more scandalous, especially since it was Armin speaking them. The two young men stopped baffled at the doorstep of Chromium Shark. And they heard it once again, louder this time, the words more lucid and clear to the ears.

'Look, buster. I am NOT putting my hand inside a vagina.'

Armin was standing in the hallway, his back pressed to the wall, and the boy was shaking his head. Magnum stood before him, the older man's hands folded in prayer, his expression earnest and pleading.

Marco and Jean exchanged a wary glance before turning back to the spectacle unfolding them.

It was Armin who noticed the two first. Having spotted them, the boy gave a sigh of relief and scooted over. He turned to Jean, accosting the ashbrown with a glare.

'Jerkface, your mom is a doctor, right?'

Jean Kirstein raised an eyebrow and nodded.

'Yeah, she is... but why are we bringing up my mom?' he asked suspiciously.

Armin turned to Magnum.

'You heard him. He is the man for the job.'

 

 

 

They were in the gateway’s tunnel.

Eren didn't think he'd return to the interstellar tunnel in this halfhearted state. When he jumped over the bridge of Castor Bay and picked an illegal gateway to cross worlds, he’d hoped to return to Earth only when he found that elusive husband of his. And yet here he was again, caught in the limbo of interstellar space. There was no Levi with him. Just Eren, a hostage and a masked man. Three men in a boat across the river of time and space.

'So, if you're not a horticulturist... what _are_ you?' Eren demanded of their captive.

The bearded captive gave a crooked smile but did not venture to answer Eren's question.

The peacekeeper looked on as Abel Hoffstead studied the intricate barcodes on the arch's frame. The old goof had been running his fingers over the door, murmuring things under his breath, talking in a frenzy. The lights of the arch illuminated the man's face while shadows consumed the rest.

Eren cleared his throat. 'Uh, I thought that the gateways... were portals to earth.'

Abel gave a small laugh.

'Oh, they are. The gateways were constructed to take a subject from point A to point B. You do realise that it doesn't have to be from one planet to another. Not all the time. The gateways can also shrink distances on a planar level,' the man said, looking at Eren intently.

The brunet shook his head.

'I still don't get it.'

Abel Hoffstead sighed. 'What it means is... I could go to Stonehess, Belemoth, Utgard, Monroe, Trost... anywhere if I have your lovely key.'

Eren felt as though he was back in his mechanics class and reading Irodov again. 'With my key?' he repeated.

Abel gave the boy a curious glance and chuckled.

'I see that you didn't inherit your father's brains.'

'Hey,' Eren warned. 'You don't have to look down on me just because I don't have a PhD in being a pretentious douchebag.'

Abel Hoffstead let the remark slide.

'My point is, boy, that with your key we can manipulate the gateways to open up at a different place on Titan.'

Eren gawked at him.

'Really? Is that possible?'

Abel swept his hand along the door frame. 'Ah, found it,' he said and opened a thin flap in the structure. It propped up, revealing a tiny keyboard. The elder shrugged and motioned to the keyboard with a hint of pride. 'Like I said, I designed the gateways. So yes, it is indeed possible.'

Eren watched the man uneasily. There was something so very off about this old goof. 

'Tell me something. If you made the gateways, what exactly did my father do?'

Abel Hoffstead looked at Eren, and a smile graced his cracked lips.

'I came up with the lock; your father engineered the key. This key is the open sesame to all locks, takes apart every algorithm and finds a loop hole. Smart man, he was. But too taken to earth,' Abel sneered and gave a condescending nod towards Eren. 'Aren't you the living proof of that attachment?'

Eren didn't say anything. He turned his attention back to the lights of the arch, eager to change the subject. _Attachment._ He was sure that the word meant little to him and would have meant even lesser to his father. How long had it been? How long had it been since his father walked out on them? Fourteen years? It was so long ago that Eren relegated his father to be one of those imaginary creatures all children grew up with and never carried over to adulthood. Like goblins and fairies. 

 

_I know you're angry. I know you want to toss the key away. But keep it. Keep it in my memory. Someday you'll understand, Eren._

 

His father's last words remained etched in his memory. 

_What did you want me to understand? Was it about Titan? Or the fact that you were deserting us?_

Eren was frankly tired of the half-truths and the half lies. And he was also tired of the men in his life: men rendered to ghosts in the back of his head, men he couldn't bring himself to move on from. It was strange how he couldn't hold on to either of them. His dad or... Levi.

Was Eren Jaeger meant to be abandoned?

Maybe he was.

 

_You have always been an asset and a liability to the State. It's the same with me. And for the record, there was no **us** in the first place._

 

It was pathetic that those simple words could erase a lifetime's worth of affection. And the words had never stopped hurting. Not then, not now. Perhaps the real reason they had stung like hot needles in his soul was not because Levi was the one to speak them. Perhaps, it was because Eren had been harboring those very same insecurities for long. There was not much he could ever hide from Levi. The man had the unique ability to read Eren as if he were wallpaper. All his secrets, all the chinks in his armor. How Eren had been running away from his world, because he couldn't deal with his mother's illness. How lonely he was. And how he didn't ask for help when he needed it. How he tried to keep himself together when everything else was falling apart.

Eren smiled to himself.

_You kicked me where it would hurt the hardest, Levi. That's what you are good at, aren't you?_

Eren felt a shiver run through his sides and wrapped his arms about himself. Cold. And it wasn't just from the dark thoughts. The cold air was permeating from the gates on the other side. Eren realised he wasn't the only one troubled by the sight of those looming giant doors. He caught the Vigilante staring into the darkness of the tunnel, watching the gateway in the far distance. The gateway to the blue green planet.

Did the man know what was on the other side?

Did he know of Earth?

Did he care?

'Something wrong, Captain?' Eren asked the masked man.

The Vigilante turned to Eren, looking at him through that insidious inkblot face of his. The masked man shook his head slowly. Turning his attention back to Abel, he studied the horticulturist in silence.

'How long?' he demanded.

Abel Hoffstead pinched the bridge of his nose thoughtfully.

'Depends on where you want to go, dear man.'

The Vigilante fixed his scarf, looping another turn of the fabric around his neck.

'You know where I want to go, Dr Hoffstead. Titan Research Grid.'

Eren watched Abel Hoffstead's hands still on the archway.

'Is that wise?' the man ventured to ask. 'You would be walking right into a catacomb,' Abel remarked.

The Vigilante looked briefly at Eren before turning back to the man.

'We'll risk it.'

 

 

 

When they emerged out of the interstellar tunnel, Eren realised he wasn't back on Earth as he had hoped to be. Because these bright white walls, polished tiles and the glittering train of gateway arches couldn't possibly be the world where he had spent his childhood. The drop off hadn't been pleasant either. The gateway had regurgitated them out with as much as delicacy as a T-Rex dancing ballet would.

Eren landed with an 'oomph' and as he lay there with a massive headache threatening to spill out, he realised this was definitely no Earth. It couldn't be. Because first, there was no greenery in the place, not even a single croton to add life to this glass palace. His nose didn't detect the musty scent of foilage either or of fresh air and the salty seas back home. Second, the gateways that stood in the middle of the giant dome were the largest he had ever seen, beating even the ones at Trost Headquarters. They towered as high as the ceiling and buzzed with a nervous energy. And lastly, the appearance of two heavy armoured androids sealed the fact that he was still on Titan. The machines carted towards Eren, wheeling to a halt before him. It took the AI bots tenth of a second to scan him from head to toe and deem him to be an intruder in this clandestine temple of modern science.

'Unidentified life form,' their mechanical voices concluded.

Before the guards could raise alarm, the Vigilante sprang to action. Eren watched stupefied as the Vigilante buried a hand into his coat and drew out a hilt, choosing it over his gun. The hilt was as familiar to the PeaceCorp as an old friend. The zirconium blade extended without a glitch, and Eren pulled back in time as the man hurried past the peacekeeper, swung his arm in an arc and shaved the botheads clean off their necks. It was all over in a tic. The decapitated heads of the machines rolled to the floor with a spark of electricity, leaving behind headless bodies to topple back and smoke on the ground. 

Eren watched the dead guards, frozen in his steps, his body rigid and numb.

'Good grief. Was that...really necessary?' Abel Hoffstead voiced aloud, looking at the shelled bots in chagrin. 'I could have shut them down using _less_ violent methods.'

The Vigilante ignored the man and wrenched the key from Abel's hands. Turning to Eren, he pressed both the key and the blade hilt into the boy’s hand.

'Be on your guard,' the masked man told Eren.

But the peacekeeper had ceased listening.

Eren stared at the Vigilante, failing to keep the troubled expression off his face. Before he could even help it, before he could put words to the storm of emotions inside him, his arm reached out and caught the gloved hand of the man, refusing to let go.

The Vigilante stopped and turned to Eren in surprise.

'What?' the Captain asked him.

Eren’s gaze flickered from the hilt to the inkblot mask. He caught sight of Abel looking at him strange. Eren shook his head quickly, pocketed the key and released his grip on the gloved hand.

The Vigilante watched him for a moment before dragging Abel away. And even as the masked man tugged Abel to the end of the giant hall, towards the large supercomputers of the research grid, Eren found himself looking at the hilt in his hand. He traced the curved end of the metal with his thumb and managed a tearful smile.

_It’s you._

_It’s really you._

 

 

 

Jean Kirstein was a young man of twenty-three who had met his fair share of opponents in life. From featherweight champions in the boxing ring to high school bullies, from being a prankster at summer camp to picking fights with motorcycle gangs, he’d left no stone unturned and no man untouched (which didn’t sound right on hindsight).

He realised how wrong he was.

Because clearly, the ashbrown never anticipated meeting a woman on the verge of giving birth.

And he didn't want to meet one again.

Never.

Ever.

Zilch.

If Isabel was a harpy when she was normal, she was a hissing Medusa when she was in labour. In the last hour, the woman had threatened to clobber, dismember, disembowel and stick a rake through anyone who dared to tell her that 'everything was going to be alright.'

'SHUT UP! How would you feel if you had to snort a WATERMELON through your NOSE?' was her argument.

No one could counter such a well-phrased analogy.

The redhead was lying in bed, breathing fire through her nose, convulsing and writhing in pain from the contractions. Curses flowed liberally from her lips (a great many directed at Magnum's dick, a few at Jean and the rest at the whole male gender.) Armin and Marco steered clear of the birthing zone and Jean couldn't envy them more. He hoped Marco would inform Farlan about the Military Police sniffing around for the Vigilante. He paused at that thought. For why should he really care about what happens to the masked freak? It wasn't his concern, was it?

Furious green eyes turned to Jean as he grabbed the woman's wrist and checked her pulse.

'What the hell are you doing, Grumpy?' Isabel snarled at him.

'Checking your pulse, Isabel. And seriously, who's the grumpy one right now?'

'My heart is alright—’ she grimaced as another of her contractions hit her. ‘Hurry up, get a crowbar and jimmy that thing OUT of me.'

Jean rolled his eyes. 'I am sure your baby would not want to hear about how its mommy was asking for a crowbar when it was about to be born.'

Whatever retort she had in mind, Isabel didn't say it. The redhead sank back against the pillows and breathed hard, waiting for the latest contraction to subside.

'Are you—' she panted, '—being wise with me?' Isabel asked when she found her voice. Her head snapped towards her lover, and the man with the dreadlocks quailed under the glare she sent his way. 'Where is my midwife, _amante_? Is this the best you can do, Magnum? Bring some arrogant kid to help me through delivery?'

The man wrapped a shawl around her and squeezed her hand. 'Izzie, calm down. The missionary hospital is closed at this hour. Besides, Jean's mother is a doctor. He has experience in these things.'

The ashbrown interrupted the conversation with a low growl.

'My mom is a _dentist_ , people. She pulls teeth out, not fucking demon spawn.'

'Did you just call my unborn child a DEMON SPAWN?' Isabel asked, snapping her attention to Jean next.

Jean just wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

He had a feeling that the baby was having the time of its life.

 

 

 

Eren was ascribed the role of the watchdog. He was to keep guard at the doors while the Vigilante hacked into the system using Hoffstead. They began a long, tedious transfer of classified files from the database to an undisclosed location on the network. Eren watched the Vigilante scan through the Research Grid's projects. All Eren could see on the giant screen were intricate blueprints, detailed designs and maps of places he'd never been, never heard of and didn't really care for. But Eren knew it had something to do with the gateways. He didn't understand what the Captain would want with it. He had perceived the man to be fighting for the people of the subpar. Why would the gateways concern the Vigilante?

The pseudo-horticulturist was right. Where was the Vigilante's allegiance? Whom was the man working for?

But the person who surprised Eren the most was Dr Abel Hoffstead.

The bearded man didn't act like a captive was supposed to. There was no fear or loathing; nor the slightest signs of intimidation in the hostage. The man protested little against his bonds or the fact that the Vigilante was pilfering through his lifetime's work. Instead, the man had his unwavering attention pinned on Eren.

Or was it on the door that Eren was guarding?

Eren couldn't tell. The young peacekeeper glimpsed past the glass, trying to find what their hostage was looking at. What was the man hiding?

And that was when he saw it. The long, well-lit aisle of the Research Grid branched into a right where a signboard hung. A signboard with bronze engraving, letters emboldened so no one could miss it.

 

_Medical R &D Dept_

_Restricted Access_

The words sank in him with a clamour of voices. And as Eren stood there, he remembered Annie talking about that sick man in her life, the one for whom she had sacrificed her humanity and for whom she had even sold her loyalty to the State. Her voice was cold and harsh even in his head. But the words resonated within him. He’d often wondered what he would have done if he’d been in her place. If someone offered his mother's cure on a silver platter in exchange for his humanity, would he still sacrifice it?

 

_Do you know what his prognosis is? Fifty percent._

_That's like God tossing a coin up in air. Fifty percent, Eren._

 

Annie Leonhart, icequeen of his squadron, his former partner and his friend. And here was the opportunity to help her, to grant her a chance at redemption.

If he were lucky, he might even find a way to help his mother. She wouldn't have to spend the rest of her life on drugs that tampered with her metabolism. She wouldn't have to stay in the hospital; she wouldn't hear those voices and she would come home alive and well.

Titan had the cure to all ailments... even incurable maladies.

Cancer.

And schizophrenia.

Eren cast a quick glance at the Vigilante. The masked man was still studying the contents of the data store. Eren turned to Dr Abel Hoffstead next, who stood handcuffed to the man with the inkblot face. The wizened man's ancient eyes were still locked onto Eren, a rabid curiosity in his expression. And there was that smile on his lips, a manic smile, as he nodded, goading the boy to action.

Yes, do it, the man mouthed. Go, boy.

Eren didn't stop to wonder why he was receiving encouragement from a hostage. But the young keeper took the bait and slipped out of the glass exit.

 

 

 

 

His footsteps sounded hollow in the aisle. He did not dally, took the right and entered the medical research unit. Nothing hindered him, which ought to have sounded the first warning bells in his head. The medical R&D department was a labyrinth, and Eren could only hope that he didn't run into anyone on patrol duty. The more he walked, the harder it was to ignore those looming grey doors of the chambers. Or the odd sound of an underwater echo.

There were a series of closed doors labelled in natural progression. EOA1, EOA2, EOA3. Eren ran through the entire stretch, looking for a way in. The aisle branched off to a left and a right, leading to more harrowing empty lobbies. The place was empty, void of people or machines.

Why?

Whatever was in there behind those closed doors, was not worthy of surveillance,

He stopped under a life size statue of Lady Justice.

Lyndon-Jaeger Centre was the insignia inscribed above her marble wings.

Lyndon-Jaeger?

What did his father have to do with medicine?

Questions, questions and no fucking answers. Eren turned to the closed doors again. He walked over to EOA7 and realised that he needed an access card to gain entry. Great and where would he get one? Abel Hoffstead's voice was like an echo, instigating him with the possibilities.

_I came up with the lock; your father engineered the key. This key is the open sesame to all locks, takes apart every algorithm and finds a loop hole._

Eren took out his metal key and wondered how exactly he was supposed to insert it when there was no keyhole. He pressed it into the reader and waited patiently. There was a moment of silence before a keypad separated from the wall.

 _Welcome, Dr. Jaeger,_ greeted Gale's voice.

Eren couldn't contain his excitement.

It worked. It actually _fucking_ worked.

_Initiating second level of authorization. Passcode please._

Passcode?

No one told him about that.

He tapped 'TITAN', thankful for the fact that the State operated on English rather than Latin.

 _Incorrect. Three tries left,_ Gale informed him spuriously.

Eren pressed the bridge of his nose and thought hard. He tried again.

E.

A.

R.

T.

H.

_Incorrect. Two tries left._

Gale's voice was beginning to grate him. The brown haired keeper had one more idea; he knew he was being narcissistic but it was worth a try.

He keyed in 'EREN'.

_Incorrect. One try left._

Eren was now at his wit's end. He looked around the lobby, his attention pulled towards the insignia on the wall. Lyndon-Jaeger. What did his father do for the Titan State that despite the man turning into a fugitive, the government still had his father's name honored on a plaque for time immemorial?

Eren sighed and turned to the door blocking him from the truth. He decided to give it one last shot.

What would his father care for?

The answer came to him swift.

C...A...R...L...A

He half expected to trigger the sirens and the alarms. Or find himself surrounded by a mob of androids. But there was a heavy silence before the lock clicked, and the grey door to Lab EOA7 swung open.

 _Authorization accepted. You may enter, Mr Jaeger,_ Gale called out in welcome.

Eren blinked in surprise.

Seriously?

Was the universe finally on his side?

Biting back a grin, he walked into the darkness. He could make out nothing at first. There were columns of glass inside which reflected the light from the hallway. Eren wasn't sure if Gale operated inside the sanctity of the lab but he tried his luck.

'On,' he said aloud.

The lights flickered on, one by one, illuminating a large room with the ceiling towering above him.

The curious smile on Eren's face disappeared when he realised what those pillars were.

 

 

 

Nothing prepared him for it.

There were fifty odd pillars in the large hall. Humans naked and limp were floating in liquid with catheters, intravenous and extra tracheal apparatus attached to their bodies. Sickly pale, their skins wrinkled, faces marred by weed like hair as though they had spent an eternity in those glass pillars. An eternity in the company of their peers, as dead as themselves, and in solitary silences. It was a hall of horrors, the kind of haunted house found in an amusement park. But these weren't mummies and phantoms. These were real corpses trapped inside the ember. Humans just like himself.

This was reality, and it had his last name emblazoned in all its savage glory.

Eren staggered in his steps, eyes wide in horror as his gaze swept the room. 

His mind reeled. Clenching his fingers tightly to keep himself from losing his grip, Eren managed to find his footing. This was the truth, the whole hard truth, and he needed to face it. He swallowed hard and walked over to the nearest one. Even now, he hoped there was a reasonable explanation for it. But brutality had no reasons or rights. He stepped closer to the pillar, wiped the condensed dew from the glass and read the description.

 

Test Subject: INC005001

Ethnicity: Caucasian male

Age: 31

Study: Long Term Effects of Ricin on DNA Intermolecular Decomposition

Domicile: New Mexico, Earth

Status: Expired

 

Eren looked up and studied the man. The dead man's eyes were closed, stitches and patches marring his skin. Eren forced himself to turn away from the gruesome sight.

The next one didn't fare any better.

 

Test Subject: INC005002

Ethnicity: Asian female

Age:42

Study: Closed Double Blind Nanoid Study on Healthy Subject

Domicile: Taiwan, Earth

Status: Expired

 

And the list was endless. In those fifty pillars, there were African Americans, Hispanics, Aborigines and people from every race imaginable. No distinction made on gender; no age spared. But they all shared one aspect. All the cadavers were from his world.

Experiments.

All the corpses were end-products of experiments.

Eren sank against a glass coffin, rage threatening to split his head open.

 

 

 _And what the dead had no speech for, when living,_  
_They can tell you, being dead: the communication_  
_Of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living._

Little Gidding, T. S. Eliot

 

 

 

A scream of anguish went up in the air. Levi looked up startled and gave the doors a furtive glance. It didn't take long for him to realise that Eren was missing, and he noticed the smug expression on Abel Hoffstead's face. Levi stepped closer to the man and curled his free hand around the man's neck, slamming him against the computing grid.

'What was that?' he demanded of the man. 'What did you do, shitface?'

Dr Abel Hoffstead looked amused despite the pain in his skull.

'Oh, I think Grisha's _precious_ son just discovered the lab rats.'

Levi turned to the doors and seethed, the words registering.

Abel Hoffstead sneered at his attempts to remain calm. 'What will you do, Vigilante?' the man asked, lifting up his arm to draw the masked man's attention to the linked handcuffs between them. 'I am afraid you have to choose between keeping me as your captive or helping out the boy. Which will it be, dear man?'

Levi released his hold on Abel and forced his attention to the screen, looking at the transfer progress.

 

97%.

 

Dr Abel Hoffstead mistook his urgency for indifference.

'Going to abandon your own comrade, eh? Such a pity.'

 

98%.

 

'See, we aren't that different. We all have to make small sacrifices for the greater good.'

 

99%.

 

Levi grunted as he unfastened the handcuffs and shackled the man to the swivel chair instead.

'I am nothing like you,' he told the man and after one last look at the completed transaction on the screen, the Vigilante took off in the direction of that voice. Yet another scream shattered the silence of the Research Grid.

It didn't take long to find the angry beast.

The young man in the tuxedo stood in one of the laboratories, doors breached, his hands pressed to the glass of a pillar. The brunet was looking at the person (or what used to be a person) stored inside the morgue. Eren's lips were trembling faintly; his fingers were balled into fists.

Levi stopped at the threshold of the hall and watched as Eren clenched the hilt of the zirconium tightly. He held it out and the blade extended to meet his need.

The peacekeeper raised his arm, taking aim at the glass.

'Eren!' Levi called out, his voice thick, and the young man turned to him, eyes wild like a bonfire burning out of bounds. 'Don't do it! Put the sword down, Eren. It won't bring back anybody!'

For a moment, there was a flash of understanding. But the flicker of conscious thought was gone as soon as it had come. Eren glowered at the masked man, his blue green eyes narrowed in hatred and fury.

'You goddam Titans! You fucking  _bastards!_ These were _my_ people! MY PEOPLE!'

And before Levi could reason with him, before he could talk some sense into that truant ward of his, Eren swung the blade in a narrow arc, piercing the glass pillar with a loud, ear-splitting crack.

 

 

 

Memories always caught up when you didn't want them to.

It'd been two years ago. Time was an illusion, memories even more so. Eren's voice sounded light despite the gravity of the problem they were discussing. They'd returned from dinner at Diablo, the older's treat because the raven-haired man had attempted to get rid of Eren Jaeger's oh-so-precious earthen junk again, and the boy had blown his lid off.

'You can't _throw_ away my comic books without telling me,' Eren complained. 'That's mean!'

'So, I can throw them away now?' Levi asked in repartee.

Eren looked at the older man in aggravation.

'Dammit, no! Do you have any idea how priceless these are? These books are limited editions... collector's items. I had to give an arm and a leg to get my hands on some of them,' Eren said, holding up a book of a man wearing red spandex, which Levi thought might have something to do with Eren's tentacle fetish. Eren pointed out the title, tracing a finger underneath the yellow letters. 'Like this one. This is Amazing Spiderman Issue 298 where Peter Parker meets his archenemy Venom. Fucking priceless.' The brunet held up another book in tandem. 'And this is Avengers versus X Men. Most epic battle in history. And this—' he held up a copy of 'Watchmen'.

The rest was gibberish to Levi's ears.

Eren didn't finish what he intended to say because Levi had quite enough of comic book heroes for one day, and there was only so much he could endure when Eren started speaking about the other men in his life (even if those other men were fictional and consequently, non existent.) The grey eyed Corporal placed a hand across Eren's nape, pulled him closer and cut off the rambling boy with a hungry, open mouthed kiss. A kiss that served as a reminder about who owned Eren Jaeger's life-- heart, body and soul. The kiss had surprised the brunet, because it had come from nowhere, and the comic books fell to the floor with a flutter of pages. And it was all the distraction he needed. The younger responded into the kiss immediately, drawing his hands around the older man's face, framing those sharp features between his fingers and tasting those lips with a tentative tongue of his own. Their hands roamed, making a mess of hair and clothes, digging into shoulders, clavicles, and those intricate spots in the flesh only the other could know about.

The two were barely aware of Mrs Norman emerging out of the lift and passing them. They didn't cease the kiss until the old lady cleared her throat a second time. The men drew apart clumsily and tried to maintain decorum in the presence of the elderly, their faces flushed and hair disheveled.

Mrs Norman gave them a shake of her head and a weary laugh before disappearing into #1262.

And the two men found themselves alone again, a sudden awkwardness creeping in between them.

Neither ventured to open the door to their apartment. Neither wanted to break this moment of intimate silence.

Eren leaned against the door frame and scratched his ears in embarrassment. He licked his lips thoughtfully before looking at Levi.  

'You know, we keep this up and we won't be able to borrow Mrs Norman's sugar next time.'

The older man nodded, though his thoughts seemed clearly elsewhere.

'Mm,' he nodded, opting to watch Eren instead.

Eren found himself caught under the vivid stare of those sleepless grey eyes.

The brown-haired boy turned away and cleared his throat.

'So, uh, what were we talking about?'

Levi mirrored his stance, lips quirking up.

'You were saying something about the junk you bring from your planet, trooper.'

Eren turned dismayed at the sight of his comic books lying on the floor. 'Come on, Levi. For the last time, they are NOT junk--'

'I get it,' Levi smirked, looping an arm around the boy's waist and pulling Eren close enough to press his lips against that smooth jaw. He soothed the strained nerve there by tracing a line along Eren's skin with his mouth. 'You have a goddam hero complex,' he whispered. 'Just admit it.'

'Whoa, whoa, I do _not_ have a hero complex.'

'Is that so? May I remind you about that time in the subway. Who saved you?'

Eren sighed and rolled his eyes, unwilling to give credit where it was due.

'Fine...’ he grunted. ‘You did. Though I could have taken care of that guerrilla bot by myself. I swear I could have!'

Levi considered the boy skeptically, his thin lips twitching into a small smile.

'And who saved your skinny ass when you decided to be an adorable little moron and jumped out of my window?'

'... you did,' Eren relented with another fitful scowl. 'First of all, the way I remember it, you threatened to hand me over to the police. So I had no choice but to jump. And secondly, my ass is skinny? That's not what you said last night.'

Levi nodded and caught the boy's chin, demanding his ward's full attention. He pressed his thumb on Eren's lower lip, tracing its full length. 

'Third, who saved you from getting whipped by the State when you were fifteen?'

Eren sighed, hung his head and acknowledged defeat.

'Alright, alright. You win. But in my defense, you beat me up and kicked a tooth out, you asshole. If you call that _saving_ me,' Eren finger-quoted and looked crossly at the man. 'Then, you need to get therapy, Mr Guardian.'

Eren's refutations were cut short, because a hand curled around his head and pulled him into a hug.

'I'm not a hero,' he heard Levi whisper, breath tickling the shell of Eren's ear. 'But I'm the only one who can... and who will always protect you, Eren. Remember that.'

 

 

 

Time was suspended and so was he. And just as the pillar came hurtling down, Eren heard his name being called out. But he stood stock-still, unable to move, unable to look away from the harrowing sight of the glass pillar toppling towards him. A wide crack split the monument in its middle, sending shock waves through the ground. And that's when he felt a force tackle him from behind. An arm wrapped around his head protectively, forcing him to duck; the other arm pressed Eren's shoulder in a painful grip and drew him into an airtight embrace. Eren felt a chin locking his head against a hard chest. And there was that green opera scarf caught between them.

The force of two hundred gallons of water flattened them level against the floor. Eren heard the glass shatter, felt the water gush out, all with a thunderous echo. As if he were visiting the Niagara falls on a middle school field trip. He didn't know what happened to the cadaver in the glass coffin. But with the rain of glass and water, his anger simmered down, and the peacekeeper realised just how reckless he'd been. How close he'd come to courting his demise. Yet despite his heady decisions, Eren found himself unhurt and conscious, buried in the cocoon of the Vigilante's arms. Someone had taken the brunt of the force, alright... someone had taken the fall. And Eren knew it wasn't _him_.

Wet, soggy and smelling of acrid medicinal fluids, they lay in a huddle of limbs and drenched in the viscous contents of the glass capsule. The Vigilante was still rolled on top of Eren, calm but not moving; his gloved fingers were laced into wet brown hair. Eren waited for the reprimand; he waited for the insults aimed at his intelligence. However, none came.

With his heart racing, Eren craned a look up at the masked face.

There was the swirl of black dots on white as always.

But there was a new color tainting that impeccable mask.

Red.

'Captain?' Eren breathed against the man's chest.

 

 

 

_We have lingered in the chambers of the sea_

_By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown_

_Till human voices wake us, and we drown._

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T. S. Eliot

 

 

* * *

 

 


	68. Barrier

Chapter-68- Barrier

~.~

 

 

On the wall of a lecture hall back in his world, hung a quote in a gilded frame; it was a quote from a German philosopher, Arthur Schopenhauer. _Mostly it is loss which teaches us the worth of things._ Eren knew what those words meant. He’d suffered this loss enough times to truly understand the cost it incurred. Eren braced himself and clamped down on those self-defeating thoughts, directing his attention instead to the person lying on top of him. His hands turned clammy, his face ashen as the peacekeeper sought out the scarf and tugged at it. The Vigilante remained unresponsive.

Breathing heavy, Eren lifted himself a little and rolled the man on to his back. Both their clothes were drenched; pants rendered wet and clinging to their legs, dress shirts wrinkled from the fluids of the morgue container. As he moved, he heard shards crunch under their weights and a glance at the flooded laboratory revealed that the cadaver of a Brazilian man— balding, with Christ the redeemer’s statue tattooed on a bicep—was washed out on the floor, a naked body that had multiple stitches running along the chest, abdomen and scalp.

He didn't know who the pickled man was.

For all Eren knew, it could have been a Bernardo, a Raphael or Rodriguez. The name of one of his own. A name reduced to a number on a file. A dead hamster in a treadmill.

The peacekeeper’s gaze shifted through the clutter, trying to discriminate things in the flotsam of the floor.

Did it matter if he set them free? Were his actions going to bring back the ghosts?

Had his lashing out been worth it?

Had his blind fury been worth losing someone _else_?

Someone pretending to be as nameless and faceless as the dead people around him. Someone he had spent eons trying to find, only to lose him again in a deathly spiral of emotions. In this room of glass stalagmites, surrounded by the ghosts of his own people, Eren Jaeger was rendered oddly calm. The anger dissipated, and a sense of quiet despair took its place instead. His guilt wasn't lessened by the fact that the Vigilante's arms were still wrapped around him— limp and loose— biding to protect him till the very end.

Protect Eren against what?

Himself?

Eren stifled the urge to snort. No doubt, he was an idiot alright.

He peered over the Captain and took the man's left hand with trepidation. Between his clammy fingers, the gloved digits were inert even as Eren kneaded them and tried to squeeze life into them. Moving his hand up to the man's wrist, Eren nudged the fabric away from the skin there and searched for a pulse.

He found it.

Fainter than his own.

In contrast, Eren's heart was doing the marathon sprint of a lifetime.

'Captain?' he called in an urgent voice. 'CAPTAIN!'

There was no answer.

'Say something, _please_ ,' Eren urged, his voice shaking. ‘Talk to me. C’mon.’

The red blot in the mask grew, staining a trail from the back of the head to the left side of the skull. The sight worried Eren like nothing before.

'Please, snap out of it,' he urged earnestly. 'Heroes never rest, you know. They are supposed to get up and keep fighting. And you've still got something to tell me.'

There was no response from the unconscious man.

But there was a new sound that reverberated through the haunted house of EOA7.

Alarms.

Eren wiped his wet face against the sleeve of his tux and looked up at the red lights that illuminated the hall in a dizzying spell. It made sense that Abel Hoffstead would alert the authorities at the first chance he got. And in this moment of clarity, Eren also understood why their hostage had goaded him into exploring the Research Grid. Abel wanted him to witness this first-hand. The Grey Baron had wanted Eren to discover the horror and extent of his father's work in its true, unadulterated form.

Eren turned to the Vigilante, his fingers still wrapped around the man's limp wrist.

_We can never predict the outcomes. If the plan fails, you are entitled to bail on me._

 

Eren groped for the man's coat, pulling it apart and running his hands over the torso— its shape exceedingly familiar to him. He detected a series of armour plates glued to the body and then, found a revolver, two full cartridges and a grappling gun. He shifted the weapons to his own person in a bid to lighten the load. Eren next grabbed the man's arm and lugged it around his shoulder.

Bail…

 _No way, I’m not gonna leave you behind_ , he vowed. _Not this time._

 

 

 

 

 

The last person he had carried on his back ended up bleeding to death. The Vigilante was a lot heavier than Jerome. Eren hoped or rather, prayed that his back wasn't jinxed. It didn't help that they were both wet, lumbersome, and Eren's shoes skidded as he retraced his steps sluggishly to the room with the gateways.

The hall was empty and shrouded in red lights. The sirens screeched like there was no tomorrow. Dr Abel Hoffstead was no longer there, but one half of the handcuffs were still attached to a swivel chair. And there were the two decapitated androids still lying on the floor.

The old weasel was crafty, alright.

Suddenly, there was a static in the air, and a voice resounded in the tall-domed chamber of Titan Research Grid.

'Jaeger,' a woman began.

He knew that voice. He had last heard it in Dot Pixis' oval office. Rico Brzenska— the bespectacled deputy of Pixis addressed him.

'Can you hear me, Jaeger?'

Eren scanned the arena for cameras but found none.

Rico did not wait for his answer.

'We have the Research Grid surrounded on all sides, cadet. How about a truce? We'll go easy if you surrender of your own volition.'

Eren bit back a scoff. Yeah, he knew how _easy_ the Titans were.

He felt the Vigilante's breathing in his ear— shallow, rapid— and tightened his hold on the older man _. Hang on. Please, hang on._ Ignoring Rico, Eren trudged his way to the first gateway, hunched over from the burden of their collective weight.

Rico could apparently see what he was doing.

'I won't do that if I were you. Running is futile. The State will find you and your accomplice no matter which side of the gates you are on. No matter what corner you crawl into, we WILL find you, Jaeger! It’s in your best interest to surrender!'

Eren didn't dwell on the threat nor let himself get intimidated. He reached into his coat pocket and drew out the key, his father's last memento— the key whose origins were as doubtful as his own. The brunet pressed it into the lock and waited. The void opened with a suction noise, the darkness spreading into the whole width of the portal gate. Before he could take the plunge, Eren steadied the man on his back and gave a furtive look around at the hall, searching for the State’s third eye. Again, he couldn’t find the lens.

But he knew he was being watched from somewhere.

Eren raised a hand and flipped his middle finger to the invisible audience.

'You want us?' he challenged out loud. 'Then, COME AND GET US!'

And with those last words, Eren carried them through the gateway.

 

 

 

 

Eren Jaeger made a mental note to never throw down a gauntlet... unless he had the upper hand in the situation. And clearly, he didn't have the upper hand in this play. (He didn't have a hand at all, to say the truth.) He felt like a piece on a chessboard, being moved against his will. Eren Jaeger was a loud-mouthed, wild-spirited pawn... but he was a pawn nevertheless. A stupid pawn that didn't know its place on the chessboard.

Did he just challenge the State to an open war?

Yes, he did.

Was he singularly the biggest friggin’ idiot in the entire universe?

Yeah, no doubt, he was.

It wasn't easy for Eren to find the keypad that Abel had materialised out of thin air. It had taken Eren a lot of groping around, blind frisking to find the keypad, his efforts unaided by the gateway key rattling in the lock. Perhaps giving Rico Brzenska and her fleet the bird had not been the most cracking smart idea he’d ever come up with. If the woman didn't hate him before, she was bound to hate him now. The deputy to the chief probably wanted to skewer him alive on a rake, and Eren didn't want to give her that opportunity. Not yet. Not when he had someone depending on him.

The peacekeeper took a step back and studied the arch under its fluid lights.

Eight years ago, Eren discovered the first gateway in the basement of his house. He’d been fifteen then. The gateway had absorbed him with a voice back then, welcoming him to Titan.

The same voice put forward a question this time.

'Destination coordinates,' it asked.

Eren frowned at it.

'Maria?' he asked rather hopefully.

'Destination coordinates,' the voice repeated, not accepting his answer.

‘Take us to Maria.’

The key rattled harder, threatening to fall away from the slot. The Titans must have arrived at Hoffstead's gateways and were apparently trying to force the doors open. At least, Eren still had the universal gate key with him but the boy didn't know how long it could keep their enemies at bay.

'Destination coordinates,' the voice asked again.

'Anywhere. Take us anywhere,' he urged the voice. ‘Please.’

There was no response, and Eren looked at the keyboard, doubts plaguing him.

Of course, it wasn't going to be this easy.

He tried to remember the movement of Abel's fingers across the board and repeated the sequence as he remembered. He didn't get it right for the first three times. The key shuddered again in the padlock, the doors of Titan’s gateway shaking in their frame. At the fourth try, the key stopped rattling and sat silent in the slot.

Did the portal move?

Where were they now?

He couldn’t tell.

Eren slumped against the doors and pressed his forehead to its hard surface. He breathed a sigh of relief in the silence. At least, he had lost the wolves from their trail. The brunet removed the key from the padlock and watched the gateway in unease.

For the first time, Eren Jaeger didn't know where the doors led. Both Titan’s and Earth’s. They were stranded in a tunnel, a surreal channel of space and time, that emerged and lead to god knows where. The boy turned and cast a worried glance at the unconscious man he’d left leaning against the tunnel wall.

Eren rushed to the man's side and knelt beside him. The Vigilante hadn't stirred from his place, but the red blot in the mask had stopped spreading thankfully. Though one could never be too sure.

How grievous were the injuries? Was there a swelling? A blood clot could trigger a brain haemorrhage and prove fatal... just as it had for Jerome. There were four kinds of head injuries, Dita Ness once taught them. Open, close, scalp and skull fractures. Each with its list of methods of evaluation and treatment. How was Eren supposed to save him when the mask remained the only barrier hindering Eren from helping?

The Rorschach mask.

The mask of his childhood hero.

Eren's heart gave a jolt at the irony of it all.

He didn't know if it was a coincidence or... if there was something to it.

'Captain?' he croaked in a low voice.

Why 'Captain'? Why was he keeping up the pretence when the name was already at the tip of his tongue on the verge of breaking out? A name that his lips hadn't spoken in ages. A name that he longed to see answered to. But the peacekeeper couldn't say the name out loud. Because Eren Jaeger was afraid, very afraid of losing the very person he had come searching for.

Eren sat down cross-legged on the floor of the interstellar tunnel. He removed his tuxedo jacket and rolled it into a lump in his lap. And carefully, gently, he moved the unconscious man, shifting his head to the makeshift pillow. He loosened the scarf around the man's neck, undid the collar to the shirt and freed the lungs passage.

All that was left was the mask— that eerie mask forever mocking him.

Eren had conquered many enemies before. Titan invaders, bounty hunters, black-marketers, college deadlines... and the longest effing distance relationship in the entire universe. But no, not this second face. This shroud of nothing defeated him and his courage.

But he wasn’t going to chicken out anymore.

Eren reached for the end of the mask and began to peel it upwards.

He didn't even get past the chin. For a gloved hand caught his fingers in a crushing grip and stopped him. The ink blot pattern swirled as the man on his lap awoke to a painful consciousness.

'What do you think… you're doing?' the voice hissed.

 

 

 

 

 

Close.

Too close for comfort.

Levi pushed himself away from the warmth of the younger and sat up against the wall. As Levi sat there breathless and confused, he tried to figure out where exactly he was. Tunnel, he deduced. Eren had taken refuge in the tunnel beyond the gateways. In the darkness and disorientation of his state, he could make out little. But Levi could discern his clothes. The dark suit he had picked out for attendance at the Ritz was ruined for all purposes.

Coughs soon wrecked him; his vision marred by a sticky wetness in his mask, a mix of blood and sweat clinging to his skin. And there was the pain in his head, that didn't show any signs of subsiding. It was not often that he felt tired, but right now this had to be rock bottom. He urged himself to stay awake for a little longer.

Time. That’s what he needed. Time and solitude. He would pick himself from where he was or die trying. But time and solitude would not come to him as long as Eren Jaeger was with him. If Levi thought himself to be stubborn, he'd forgotten about the brat. The troublemaker extraordinaire was as stubborn as him (if not more).

Eren sat crouched a short distance from him, arms holding on to the tuxedo jacket that Levi had shoved away. What bothered Levi was the expression on the boy’s face.

Concern.

And... hurt.

He didn't need to see it, nor did he want to. Levi had seen that face a hundred times before. For someone possessing a crass mouth such as him, tact was not his best friend. And when you're blessed with an irate personality and a biting pride, you often hurt people when you don't mean to.

But he wasn’t going to apologize for it. No, not this time, when the younger insisted on crossing the very barrier he was trying hard to uphold. Not when the gateways were so near at hand and within his grasp. Not when he was furious himself. The smallest push. That was all he needed. Burn this bridge between them. This unrelenting attachment to a ghost.

When Levi found himself wrecked by another fit of coughs, Eren crawled over to his side.

'We need to tend to your injuries,' Eren said, trying to reason with him.

'I’m fine,' Levi said, sitting up with difficulty.

'But—'

'I’m fine,' Levi insisted tightly.

Eren wasn't taking no for an answer.

'You are bleeding. You can barely—'

'And whose _fucking_ fault is that?' Levi snapped.

Eren stared at him, surprised by the edge in his voice. The brunet pursed his lips, nodding.

'Look,' the boy said. 'I didn't ask you to save me. I didn't ask you to risk your life for me,' the peacekeeper said, trying to keep his temper down. 'You saw what was inside that lab. They were people, _my_ people. I don't know how many more have been subjected to experiments. I was a PeaceCorp, _goddammit._ I was supposed to protect the worlds...' And there was anguish on his face again, emotions threatening to spill from the tear-stricken features.

Levi gave a blunt snort, and Eren looked at him sharply. It was clearly not the reaction the younger had expected.

'Protect?' the masked man echoed, voice dripping with sarcasm. 'PROTECT? You can't even take care of yourself, imbecile. Forget the world.'

The boy stared at him, lips parting just a little to reveal clenched teeth.

Levi watched him steadily.

Good.

Get angry, Eren.

Just like last time.

Levi scoffed, a sound that came out harsh and bitter in the silence of the tunnel.

'What you saw in the Research Grid is only the beginning, Earthborn. A _teaser_ for the main act. Why do you think the Titans take an interest in your world? The State is superficial, a chockful of bullshit, and so are its people. So is this… guy you're looking for.'

Eren watched him quietly, his face unreadable.

'What's that supposed to mean?' the younger demanded after a long pause.

Push. The slightest push. The smallest match to burn down that fucking bridge.

That was all Levi needed.

'Do you think,' the Vigilante paused, looking up at Eren’s face. 'Do you think he loved you? Did you fool yourself into believing you were soulmates or crap like that? We, Titans, don't believe in emotions, Earthborn. Sentimentality is a weakness, attachments are a burden. Everything is a give and take, a war where the winner takes all. Are you sure this... this _guy_ wasn't an opportunist like the rest of us?'

Eren reacted. The boy reached out and caught Levi's open collar, bruised fingers holding him to eye level.

'Why are you talking like this?' the boy demanded, turquoise green eyes narrowed dangerously at Levi’s mask.

Levi relished in the reaction.

'It hurts to hear, doesn't it? But that's the truth for you.'

Eren scowled.

'Shut up. Please, you're going to tire yourself out—'

Levi wasn’t done.

'You remember the auction house, kid? You remember those Titans and the things they called you? Maybe that's all you were to him. An otherworldly _flesh_ ,’ he spat out with a bark of laughter. ‘A fucktoy. An amusement to pass the time. All these years, he could have just been lying to you. Pretending to care. Pretending that you were anything more. Did you fall for those lies, kid? How gullible can you get?'

His words were like acid, and they left a silence. A cold, hard silence.

Levi’s breathing came heavy, but he waited. He waited patiently for the bridge to fall.

Eren removed his hold on the collar and rose to his feet. The young man took two steps backward, a shadow of disgust passing on his face. And then, without a word, he turned and walked away to the other side.

Levi watched him go. He saw the boy leave down the tunnel and with a sigh, Levi turned his masked face to the front again. Those harsh words had sapped the last of his strength. The Vigilante slid down the wall of the interstellar tunnel and pressed a hand to his face. He heard the click of a key— the key that doomed them all— heard the doors open and was painfully aware of the footsteps disappearing behind them.

And the boy was finally gone.

Gone beyond the gates to that unfathomable world.

 

 

 

 

 

Connie Springer, aged twenty two, did not realise he was a gold-digger until Sasha told him that her dad didn't just own a potato ranch but also a cod fishery in the north. The very Extreme North.

This wasn't the way he wanted to spend the holidays.

The last time he had seen solid land was a port town called Sisimiut off the western coast of Greenland, which Connie had taken to calling the 'Sissy Place'. Sasha had found the name hilarious and endearing though Mr Braus did not find 'Sissy' funny at all. The elder man with the thick beard and moustache was intimidating to the core. But Connie held on, hoping to impress Braus senior with Connie’s fortitude to brave bad weather and violent seas. Connie Springer hadn't succeeded yet in his efforts, but the boy kept his fingers crossed.

Connie didn't think that the cod saga would continue from the docks of Sylvan, but here he was... on a stinky trawler crossing international waters, and he was huddled in layers of winter wear— a balaclava, hooded jacket and snow boots. Connie was standing under a davit and freezing his butt on deck. He felt nauseated, cold and numb. This was so not the road trip he wanted to go on. Because there wasn't a darn road in sight. What was that poem he read in high school again? About an old geezer chasing after an Albatross?

That was exactly how the young college student felt.

Grim, white and churlish waters surrounded them on all sides. The boy with the crew cut blew air into his hands to warm his fingers.

'Connie!' he heard Sasha call from the ship's cookhouse. He turned to see her stick her head out through a porthole. Sasha with her ponytail brown hair looked up at him, fresh as a wildflower, warm like a loaf of bread. 'How is it going up there, Cons? You okay?' she yelled to him.

Connie blew air into his hands again, 'F-Fine. D-Dandy. B-better than I've ever b-been,' he chattered, feeling the cold seep to his very bones.

Sasha gave him a brilliant smile, which warmed his innards. Just _barely._

'Keep an eye out for cod.'

'R-right you are. O-of course. C-cod.'

The boy cringed. Truth be told, he had enough of fish to last him a lifetime. But nevertheless, he was a doting boyfriend, and he raised his binoculars to scan the horizon. He searched the waters for a suitable place to cast the net. And that’s when Connie Springer saw something unusual in the white landscape. A figure standing on a cliff. Dressed in just a tuxedo.

Connie blinked twice, checking if he'd mistaken a penguin for a human.

But the figure remained in his vision.

He lowered his binoculars, wondering if his sea sickness had reached a new height of ridiculous.

Because he could have sworn he saw Eren standing atop a glacier.

 

 

 

 

White.

White as far as he could see, from the pinnacle where he stood to the edge where the heavens and earth met. The blue green world he often boasted about was a stretch of blank canvas. And it was friggin’ cold. Eren's teeth began to chatter as his extremities began to grow numb. He had to move fast... unless he wanted to die of frost bite. Wrapping his tux around himself again and rubbing his hands together, Eren Jaeger found himself standing on a land covered with ice. Behind him, the dark blue ocean stretched endlessly littered with floating chunks of ice. And as he stood freezing, growing painfully numb, he caught sight of a whale breaking surface, its dorsal fin splashing the waters with an elegant flip.

'W-Wow.' Eren muttered, his breath leaving his mouth in mist.

He turned to the white landscape despairingly and spotted the turf tents in the distance. Next to the settlement was an overturned kayak attached to a pole and the remains of a yesternight fire.

Help.

He needed to get help.

Yes.

Whether Levi wanted it or not.

 

 

* * *

 


	69. Blindfold

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter- 69- Blindfold

~.~

 

Eren didn't really know where he was. He could be anywhere from the Arctic to the Antarctic. But as he staggered his way inland with his feet half sinking into the snow laden terrain, he realised there was more to this frozen land than what met the eye. His feet were grateful when they left the ice and walked on hard terrain. The melting glaciers at the edge of the isle revealed patches of brown grass where the turf tents had been put up, probably by people indigenous to this strange country. There were kayaks tethered to a crudely constructed dock and a flag pole flying at half-mast. Close to the shoreline, a bigger surprise awaited him. A band of collared huskies were watching him in a mix of curiosity and mistrust. Huskies, his brain tried to process. Yeah... Huskies with frizzy brow and lush grey coats of fur.

Dogs.

Real live canines.

Real live animals.

The young peacekeeper had never been happier to meet dogs before, especially ones which were barking and growling at him with a ferocity that would spur any normal guy to run for the trees. There was even a husky puppy in the huddle of canines— a pup with doleful eyes and white fur. Even from far, it sniffed at him tentatively, wondering who he was. Eren felt half inclined to kidnap the little mutt and take it back with him.

Take it back…?

Yeah.

Take it back for that one guy who'd never seen a real dog before. So that Krobe could have a sibling to squabble with. So that he could watch Levi indulging the dogs with his usual ghost of a smile. The brunet stopped in his tracks, feeling the cold pervade into his being. His sense of euphoria was gone, displaced by the biting cold of the subarctic temperatures. And there was that feeling of despair joining the imbroglio of confused emotions. He didn't know which was worse of the two. The harsh weather or the pine cones in his heart. The brown-haired keeper felt the sting of tears at the corner of his eyes and a bitter laugh escaped his frosted lips. What was he thinking? What was he dreaming about? Krobe was dead and its master on the verge of dying himself.

The biggest irony? They had both gotten hurt in trying to save him.

 

_And whose fucking fault is that?_

_You can't even take care of yourself, imbecile. Forget the world._

 

Yeah. Eren did feel like an imbecile. Besides, this wasn't the time to be building castles in the air, was it?

_I may not be able to protect the world, Levi._

_But I want to protect you._

_Wait for me._

_Please._

Eren forced himself to walk again and resumed his path through the frozen terrain. Shivers ran the length of his spine, and the boy willed his teeth to stop chattering. He passed the barking sled-dogs and lumbered past the flag pole. The young man finally entered the communion of turf tents, grateful to leave the remnants of winter behind him. There was the warmth of a hearth here, and the smoking remains of last night's camp fire. He looked around at the circle of houses. The settlement of tents was empty and not even a soul could be seen or heard. Eren cupped his cheeks with his numb hands and began calling out for help.

'Heyyyy!' he yelled into his tundra landscape.

Nothing.

'HELLOOOOO! Anyone here? ANYBODY?'

The tented houses remained empty. No one emerged.

'HEY!' he yelled to the circle of canvas around him. 'Isn't there anyone here? Someone!'

Only the cold wind answered him as it ruffled past the red and white flag. Which country was it?

'Please,' Eren bellowed, doubling over to force the voice out of him. With his hands grasping his knees, Eren breathed hard and scanned the deserted homes. 'Please, I need help. He… needs help. He’s bleeding,' the brunet cringed and forced himself to straighten up. He took a deep breath, cupped his mouth again and began shouting at the top of his lungs. 'HELP! THERE’S AN INJURED MAN—'

Eren stopped yelling for he noticed movement. His face lit up because he had finally spotted another human being in this god-forsaken place. A heavily padded figure appeared in the horizon, hiking its way towards him. Eren saw an Inuit man climb down the snow-covered meadow, his hand pulling the rein of a muskox behind him. The ox brayed under the weight of its master's bearings and was the one to notice the young man first.

At the sight of Eren, the Inuit stopped short, startled beyond his wits. He looked at the boy, expression furrowing in suspicion.

Eren conceded that he must look a peculiar sight.

Deeming that the boy didn't pose any danger, the Inuit moved towards a clump of stones and tied the muskox to a boulder. Having secured the animal with rope, this dwarf Mongolian man came bounding forward, looking at the visitor in alarm.

Eren stepped back and gauged the man hesitantly.

'Uh, hi?' greeted Eren, knowing how weird his appearance must be.

'Inuugujaq,' the heavily padded man said when he reached the peacekeeper.

Eren looked at the man quizzically.

'Huh?'

'Inuugujaq! Tunngasugit!' the Inuit repeated and lifted a hand, palm facing. Was that a greeting? Or a warning?

Great! A language barrier, thought Eren. How was he going to get his message across... especially when he didn't have a clue to where he was?

'Sorry, ox-man. But I don't understand you,' Eren said, gesturing between the two of them. 'And my university never gave Eskimo as a language elective. Trust me, I was all for it… right after Zulu but yeah… try explaining that to my asshat professors,' said Eren, and the peacekeeper couldn't keep the grin off his face.

The Inuit didn't laugh, nor did he get the joke.

'Suminnguaaneerpit?' the pink faced man asked, throwing back the hood to his fur jacket.

Eren gave him a puzzled look in return.

The dwarf Mongolian pointed to all four sides of the island and then to Eren. He gave the visitor a questioning look. Eren realised that the Eskimo was asking him where the hell he popped out from. A completely logical question, no doubt.

'Where I came from, huh?' the boy trailed.

Eren raised a hand and pointed up at the sky in answer.

There was a silence.

It wasn't the best explanation he could have come up with. The man's eyes widened, and he began to back away as if Eren… were an alien. (Which he technically was.)

That wasn't the reaction he was hoping for. Eren grew frantic as the dwarf backed away a few more steps.

'No, hold on. Wait up, ox man. Dammit, don't run away. I'm not gonna hurt you. I need your help, sir. I need… bandages… water... and a first aid kit. There is an injured man, and he needs MEDICAL ATTENTION,' Eren realised his raised tone was making the situation worse, and he was frightening the man. The Inuit growled and sized him up.

Eren sighed. Throwing his hands up in surrender, the brunet calmed down and began speaking slowly. He gesticulated to his own head and made a wrapping motion with his hands. He really wished he had taken a sign language course back in college.

'BANDAGES!' he tried explaining. 'Medicine! Do you get me?'

The Eskimo raised a fuzzy eyebrow.

'Patsit! Paasinergilana!' the man said heatedly.

Eren raked a hand through his hair in vexation. There was a cool wetness clinging to his brown strands, which surprised him. He didn't realize when the snowflakes had settled in. The frozen landscape was already leaving its mark on him. Signs that he had spent too much time here. He turned back to the dwarf and tried speaking again, much slower this time. Eren Jaeger could achieve miracles when he was patient and calm. At the third trial, the Eskimo finally understood what he was saying.

'Firsht… aiyd?' the man asked.

Eren nodded, immensely relieved that he got through.

Much to Eren's surprise, the Inuit didn't rush to get him supplies like he had hoped for. Instead, the Eskimo held out a hand in expectation and gave the brunet a wide, toothy smile.

Eren realised that the cheeky Inuit was asking for something in return.

The young peacekeeper groaned and gave the white country around him a long, unforgiving look.

Give and take. Some things never changed.

_See, Levi?_

_We may be from two parallel worlds. But in the end, there is no difference between your people and mine._

 

 

 

 

Connie Springer scampered down the ship's deck, descending levels until he found the Braus family. Mr Braus and his daughter Sasha were debating the dinner menu for the day. Apparently, food was a sensitive subject for the Brauses, something they took as seriously as the presidential elections. Argument on whether it should be salami or lamb stew came to a jarring halt when they saw the bewildered expression on Connie's face. The twenty-two-year-old looked pale as if he'd just seen the ghost of Moby Dick.

'Sasha!' he bleated in a frenzied voice.

The girl looked at him wide-eyed.

'What's wrong, Connie? Are you feeling sea sick again? You want me to get the puke bucket for you?'

'No, not that,' Connie said indignantly. 'I saw something weird! You won't believe me if I told you!'

The girl with the pony tail crossed her arms and gave the balaclava boy a dubious look. 'What is it? Don't leave me hanging here. Come on, spit it out!'

The young man buried his hands in the pockets of his winter jacket and gave Braus Senior a glance of nervousness.

'Sasha, I was scouting the waters like you told me to. You know, minding my own business and being on the lookout for carp and cod, like you told me to. And that's when I saw him.'

'Saw whom?'

'Eren! I saw Eren... on top of a glacier.'

'Wait… what?'

'One moment he was there and the next moment, he wasn't.'

'You saw Eren? EREN?' Sasha repeated incredulously.

'Yeah and that's not all. He was wearing a tux too.'

Sasha pursed her lips and watched him in concern.

'Cons, are you sick? Are you sure you’re not hallucinating? What would Eren be doing out here?'

'No. I’m _positive_ it was him!'

'But Connie, we are miles from home!'

'I thought so too. At first, I tried convincing myself it was a penguin.'

Mr Braus who had been following this volley of a conversation back and forth, stood up and snorted loudly. 'Penguins in the arctic? Young man! There are no penguins in the northern hemisphere. Did they not teach you geography at school, kid?'

But Connie held Sasha's gaze with all seriousness. He took off his balaclava and strode up to his girlfriend, wrapping her hand between his own mittens.

'It was him, Sasha. You believe me, babe, don't you?'

Sasha Braus blushed a little under his intense gaze.

'Um, I want to, Cons… But what would Eren be doing here in Greenland? How did he even get here? It sounds far-fetched, and you know it.'

Connie shook his head.

'We're talking about _Eren_ , Sasha. He was always bit of a weirdo. I used to hear him talking to himself in his dorm room.’

Sasha nodded grudgingly as she too remembered the odd incidents. Like how Eren began to hate French Toasts out of the blue. Like how he'd always be sleeping in class.

'Yeah and remember how he never used to share his soup? What the hell was up with that?'

'Bingo,' said Connie with a grin.

 

 

 

 

There was a whistling sound in his ears and it didn't bring good tidings. Levi sat against the walls of the interstellar tunnel, his head hanging slack against his chest. His breathing was shallow, and he had a pounding headache that seemed on the verge of splitting his skull open. Something wasn't right. He could be dehydrated or worse… running a fever. The fluids from the research chamber still clung to him, the scent of formalin and preservatives. He smelt like a morgue, felt like a morgue and probably… looked like a morgue.

Filthy.

He was cold, filthy and alone.

Yes.

He was finally… alone.

The brat was gone, and the green eyed wonder had taken the key with him. Levi hadn't noticed it at first; he hadn't noticed how he had sealed his own fate by sending Eren away. Without a gate key, Levi would be stuck in this limbo forever. He would succumb to cold, exhaustion, septicaemia or… loneliness.

So which one would it be? Which would be his conqueror, the one to take his last breath away?

Levi smiled reluctantly behind the mask. His work was unfinished, and Farlan would have to pick up the trail… but there was a saving grace in this train wreck of a mission. The brat was safe. Levi had managed to send him away. The young trooper was probably far by now, wherever those doors would lead him. He would be furious and agitated. A hot, angry mess but… safe.

Levi caught himself frowning. His thoughts were turning hyperbolic and the headache didn't ease; all signs that indicated his health was taking a turn for the worse. The shadows of the interstellar tunnel seemed to taunt him, goading Levi with his own words. The darkness wanted to consume him completely, eat him inside out. The grey eyed man realized that this was how Eren must have felt on that day. The fateful day when everything changed for them. When the State decided to do away with Eren, orchestrated an attack on its own soldier and left him bleeding on Gateway 22. He remembered the lines from the book, the weakened voice of Eren as he recited the words from the shores of death.

Levi murmured those ghostly phrases as he leaned heavily against the tunnel wall.

What was it again?

‘He views the dismal situation waste and wild. A dungeon horrible, on all sides round.'

A dungeon. He couldn't find a better word for it. There was no love lost between the gateways and Levi. He'd never liked these channels to the other world. He'd never liked the intentions with which they were built or the price they sought. But try as he might, he could not hate them completely. Because if it weren't for the gateways, how else would he have met the troublemaker?

‘… where peace and rest can never dwell, hope never comes.'

Hope never comes, Levi murmured as he fought the losing battle with consciousness.

What the hell was hope anyway?

Something the religious conservatives preached about?

Almost in answer, he heard the doors lurch open. He turned his masked face to the other side, and there it was. A flood of light pooling in and the sound of footsteps. Something soft padded over to his side, calling him. Bare, lanky arms wrapped around Levi's shoulders and gentle fingers cradled his head.

'Captain, stay awake! Can you hear me? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I am… here... right here.'

Levi sighed inwardly.

It figured that this warmth could only be that goddam poopface husband of his.

A young man named Eren Jaeger alias humanity's hope.

His hope.

 

 

 

 

'How are you feeling, Captain?'

Like shit, he felt inclined to reply. But Levi kept quiet, relieved though he was.

'Do you have a concussion?'

The masked man took a deep breath and wanted to sit up. But the hands on his shoulder insisted on keeping him horizontal.

'I got you some first aid. It's crude, but it would stop the bleeding.'

The older refrained from answering. Instead, he closed his eyes and began to miss the silence of the interstellar tunnel.

'Is there any discharge from your ears? Any symptoms we need to be worried about?'

Levi sighed inwardly.

'Are you having deafness?' the young man pursued relentlessly.

'I wish I WAS,' Levi snapped, opening his eyes to look up at the younger. Eren was still cradling his head in his lap, concern written all over his features. And it was the first time Levi noticed it. That the boy from Earth was missing half the attire Isabel Magnolia had picked out for him. Eren was sitting bare-chested, his tuxedo jacket and shirt conspicuously missing. The peacekeeper sat shivering ever so slightly against the cold. But he never complained. Never once about himself.

'Hey kid,' the Vigilante called.

'Yes, Captain?'

'You have some sort of trouble keeping your clothes on?'

The brunet looked apologetic for a small moment and then, he smiled wistfully.

'Sorry, sir. But I had to do a trade.'

Levi frowned.

'Trade?'

Eren's fingers caught Levi's loose tie and began to unravel it from his neck.

'Yes, Captain. The kind of trade I'm about to do now.'

 

 

 

 

 

There was a hollow echo in the interstellar tunnel between the two parallel worlds. The echo of time and space. And them. The two of them. One blindfolded and the other masked. It had been entirely Eren's idea, and Levi accepted the terms of the agreement grudgingly. The deal was simple. If the Vigilante wouldn't allow Eren to tend to the wounds, he would have to do it himself. In return…

In return, Eren promised to be blindfolded and to wait patiently until the man was done treating his injuries.

'How do I know you can be trusted? You won't peek?' Levi asked the younger in good humor. It was a rhetorical question, a question that wasn't meant to be answered.

'Trust me,' Eren replied with determination set in his tone. 'You gotta trust me. Because if you haven't noticed yet, Captain… you've only got me.'

The older man watched the boy in the semi-darkness, musing over those words. Eren was oddly persuasive when he wanted to be. Conceding defeat, the Vigilante agreed to the arrangement. The young man kept his promise faithfully. Eren sat cross legged on the floor with his back to the wall. A charcoal grey tie was wrapped around his eyes, secured with two knots at the back of the youngster's head. The brunet sat perfectly still, keenly listening to him. It was strange. Because a quiet Eren meant the younger was thinking, and no good ever came of that.

Levi sighed and began peeling the mask off. It came undone slowly, and his face was exposed to the outside world in what seemed like ages. When the inkblot mask was reduced to a rag, he dropped it to the ground and opened the deerskin that Eren had brought with him. Inside it were rolls of cotton, ice packed into a thin cloth, a bottle of water, a rough towel and a bowl with green goo that smelled herbal. It was a crude assortment of supplies, not the sort of high-tech, first grade medical attention Titan could offer. But it would do… because it had all of what Levi considered to be Eren.

Warmth and home.

Levi looked up at Eren but didn't say anything. The younger man must have sensed his surprise.

'Sorry. I couldn't get my hands on much,' apologized Eren with a grimace.

Levi gave a small smile and nodded. He realized Eren probably couldn't see it anyway.

'It's enough,' the Vigilante admitted and began the slow process of cleaning up his wounds. And as he did, his grey eyes never left the blindfolded young man squatting before him. Levi found himself at ease, having the time and luxury of watching Eren unabashedly and without restraint. For the first time, he could observe Eren all he wanted, let his eyes take in everything about the boy— the tanned skin of that bare chest, the goosebumps along his forearms, every sinew and muscle... and he didn't have to worry about his secret being found out. The blindfold did have its advantages.

The silence was awkward.

'Can I ask you something?' Levi asked.

He watched a smile flit across those blue lips, and the boy nodded.

'Why did you come back? After all that I said, kid, you didn't have to come back.'

Eren didn't search long for an answer.

'Sorry, Captain. But I can't really hold a grudge against someone who got his head _bludgeoned_ … for me. And if there's one thing I've learnt-- you Titans are such good liars. Besides,’ he paused and weighed the words in his head. ‘— I didn't come back for you. I came back for my…' he sorted out his thoughts and finished his next words in a quieter tone. 'I came back for my husband,' he said.

Levi wiped the towel across his undercut and cast an amused glance at his blindfolded companion.

'So, a trade for a trade. I’m your savior, and you're just paying your dues back? That's what this is?'

Eren smiled.

'I'm afraid I do owe you favors. _Many_ of them, in fact.'

Levi watched the boy evenly.

'What if this wasn't enough? What if I ask you for something more?'

A shadow of doubt passed over the face of the young man.

'Dude, I'm not calling you a _sweetheart_ ,' Eren said in chagrin. 'No way in hell.'

Levi suppressed a smile.

'Not that.'

Eren tilted his head, looking confused.

'What... do you want then?'

Levi bit into the chip in his mouth. He didn't know why he asked for it. Perhaps it was the frustration piling up. Perhaps Levi was tired of playing the Masked Vigilante. Maybe, somewhere deep down, he just wanted to be Rivaille again. Even for a moment.

'A… kiss.'

Eren stiffened. The request had taken the boy by surprise, and his shoulders tensed up. But when Levi made no further move or attempted to levy his charge, the brunet relaxed, his guard dropping, and after a long drawn pause, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

'You hit your head really _hard_ , didn't you?' Eren quipped, breaking the tension with a small chuckle of his own.

And there was the answer. Levi wasn't sure if he ought to be relieved or frustrated with that reply. All he could do was smirk and return to treating his injuries. He took the cotton and wiped it along the left side of his head, soaking in the dried blood. He wiped a downward trail until he came to the voice modulator, the last fragment of the Vigilante's identity still attached to him. Before he decided to remove the contraption, he gave one last remark in the Vigilante's voice.

'This guy you came back for… I hope he’s worth waiting for,' said Levi before removing the strap.

He hadn't expected an answer.

And when it came, the words surprised Levi.

'No,' the boy said. 'He’s not worth it.'

Levi stilled, his gaze traveling to the boy in surprise.

Eren resumed speaking, roasting him thoroughly.

'That jerk isn't worth any of the heartache he's caused me. He’s arrogant, he's got a foul mouth, and the prick does whatever he thinks is right. And you know what I hate most about him? The fact that he IS always right. That pokerface. That asshole—' Levi cringed at the names while Eren continued with the barrage of insults. 'In all the years I knew him, not once did he ever say those fucking three words. He makes me wait forever and I'll keep waiting for him. You know why?'

Levi rubbed the herbal antiseptic to his cuts, wincing from the burn of the medicine and Eren’s tirade. But his grey eyes remained on the boy. Levi didn't speak, not with the modulator off him.

Eren gave a chaffed smile.

'Because he once told me that chaos and order go together. My place is by his side. And he needs me as much as I need him. So, I'll keep searching for him. Till the end.'

Levi looked at the younger, and it struck him how much Eren had grown up in the last eight years. From a teenager struggling to cope with life to this body of strength, to this pillar of support. And as Levi picked himself up from the ground and strode over to this turbulent young man, he sank on one knee.

Eren had heard the movement and a puzzled expression crossed his features.

Levi said nothing and watched the boy in the silence.

A boy?

No. Not anymore.

But he could still see the fifteen-year-old Eren in him. Eren with his eyes covered, flakes of white in his hair, shirtless and cold. But this Eren Jaeger was stronger than his past self, bolder than Levi himself. And those blue lips were parted open just a little, enticing and inviting him. Levi placed a hand on the younger's chin, surprising the brunet by his touch. And without a word, he leaned in.

It had started as a chaste kiss to remind himself and perhaps Eren of old memories. But there was the dam of constrained emotions, threatening to overflow. And it broke with a blood rush in his ears. Levi placed the other hand across the boy's nape and reeled him closer. He pulled at the lower lip with his mouth, swiping a tongue across it and was pleased to see Eren trying to keep his hands down. Unable to contain himself anymore, he held Eren's head firm and pulled the boy into a passionate kiss. His hands dropped, working their way around Eren’s body, feeling each crevasse, each line along that perfect physique, kneading, exploring and itching to remember. Breaths came heavy; nerves tingled where his hands met Eren's skin.

The boy in his arms let out little whimpers of anticipation.

Levi knew his judgement was clouded. For a person who had prized obedience, rules and authority... how did he end up with Eren who was as unpredictable as a storm?

Yes, unpredictable. His own chaos. Because when Levi's hands traveled to the waistband of Eren's pants, a knee jutted out immediately, and the older man received a violent kick in his stomach.

Levi drew back painfully and looking at the peacekeeper, found those swollen lips pursed in a thin line.

Breathless and winded from the kiss, Eren gave a low growl and frowned behind his blindfold.

'Sorry, dude, but the only person who is allowed to do that… is my husband.'

Levi winced.

He didn't know whether to feel relieved or sorry for himself.

There was a silence, and the peacekeeper broke it first.

'Since you're feeling better, Captain… shall we head back?' Eren asked.

 

 

 

 

On the coast of Greenland, two hundred miles north of Sisimiut, a motor boat braved the cold, ice waters and landed on the shoreline with a shudder. Two college students got out and trekked their way uphill until they came across an Inuit sitting on a boulder. A muskox brayed at them in greeting.

Sasha Braus and Connie Springer stopped in their tracks, astounded.

They had found the man in the tuxedo.

And it wasn't Eren.

Because it was an Eskimo sporting a tux.

'Weird,' the two said in cohesion.

 

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Titan Army Guidebook  
> |Section 24, Part 2|
> 
> How to administer first aid for head injuries:  
>  **I. Assess the patient**  
>  1\. Assess the patient's conscious state.  
> 2\. If not fully conscious, place the patient in a supported position.  
> 3\. Check that the airway is clear and for signs of life every few minutes.  
> 4\. If conscious, help the patient to rest in the position of greatest comfort.  
> 5\. Sometimes patients with head injury may become agitated. Enlist friends or family to calm and reassure the patient.
> 
>  **II. Give care until arrival of help**  
>  1\. Cover any wound with a sterile dressing.  
> 2\. If there is any discharge from the ears or nose, cover the area with a sterile dressing.  
>  **III. Monitor the patient**  
>  1\. Keep a constant watch on breathing and consciousness level.  
> 2\. And most importantly, do NOT leave the patient alone.
> 
>  
> 
> Inuugujaq! Tunngasugit- Hello! Welcome! (Greenlandic)  
> Suminngaaneerpit?- Where are you from? (Greenlandic)  
> 'Patsit! Paasinergilana!- Sorry. I don't understand. (Greenlandic)


	70. Nobody

 

Chapter-70- Nobody

~.~

 

The game was up when they kissed. Or so it should have been.

But odd enough, nothing changed.

Because no sooner had the man recovered, the mask was back on, Eren's blindfold gone and the kiss forgotten. Back to stasis. Back to their roles of Outlaw and Outlaw's sidekick. As if the kiss never happened and if it did happen, it was nothing more than a mistake, a lapse in judgement. The Vigilante picked up the guns that Eren had discarded near the hulking doors of the gateway arch. The Krill revolver went into the holster, the grappling gun tucked into the underside of his shirt, taking caution that the hook wouldn't impale him, and the cartridges disappeared into his pockets. The Vigilante’s movements were heavy, lethargic, working under strain, Eren noticed. All while the peacekeeper went about unlocking the gateway to Titan, trying to keep himself calm and reserved. As he turned the key in its slot, he gave Levi a furtive glance.

No, not Levi but… Vigilante.

Like the man insisted.

And Eren would play along. He would play this game of hide and seek as long as he was allowed to stay by Levi's side. Till death do us part, like people said in the movies. Or till Levi's ego did them apart, Eren amended.

And yet… for someone who was trying so hard to keep his identity under wraps, Levi had slipped. What was that kiss all about? Did the man think Eren was so dense, so obtuse an oaf to not recognize his own husband's mouth?

Eren heard the ominous click in the padlock, but his gaze remained on that mask.

If there had been the slightest doubt of the Vigilante _not_ being Levi, it melted away when the Captain kissed him. Because if there was anything that was a dead giveaway, it had to be the way Levi kissed. For a man who rarely let emotions and feelings get the best of him, Rivaille's sharp tongue, calloused fingers and lips spoke a different language when he wasn't donning the uniform of duty. When Eren wasn't just a goddam ward. While words from his mouth could sting, be cold and brutal, this very same mouth— crass and unforgiving— could press warm and gentle kisses on Eren’s gooseflesh. And take its own sweet time in ravishing him, consuming like a blackhole, taming Eren’s very own beast. And here was a contradiction that even quantum mechanics couldn't explain and maybe, just maybe, Eren had always liked that contradiction. How he could see sides to Levi that the older man showed to no one else. How Eren was the only person allowed to see Levi's gentler nature. Or the passion that slumbered beneath the reservoir of calm. An achievement Eren Jaeger took immense pride in.

And he had missed that mouth, alright. Its taste and feel against his.

As much as he wanted to run his hands through that dark hair or catch a glimpse of those shrewd eyes with their wealth of experience and wisdom, Eren forced himself to be patient.

To keep his distance.

Pretend they weren't related. Pretend they were strangers. And wait.

Wait for Levi to reveal himself and give Eren those long overdue explanations.

Eren could do that. He could be patient, _couldn't_ he?

The Vigilante caught the boy looking at him askance.

'What?' the man demanded in that strange alien voice. 'You’ve got something to say?'

Eren came out of his reverie. The younger pointed to the guns the man had stowed away. 'You're still injured, Captain. You sure you want to carry those?'

The masked man watched him and chuckled, patting down his artillery. 'The whole Military Police is going to be on the lookout for us. I won't be surprised if the turds got a bounty on our heads already. So, yes,’ he said, taking a deep breath through his shroud and steadying on his feet. ‘I’ll take my chances.'

Eren looked at the gateway arch and pulled the key away from the lock. He hesitated, remembering a conversation from the past.

'Violence begets violence… Someone told that to me once.'

The Vigilante paused. He picked up his overcoat from the floor, wrung it and shook out the dampness from the garment. He walked towards Eren, and his next move surprised the peacekeeper. The masked man draped the coat over Eren’s shoulders, enveloping him in its fold and then, wordlessly, left his side.

'It's also a eat-or-get-eaten world,' said the Vigilante, looking at some point in the far distance. 'Circumstances change. People… change.'

Eren didn't say anything but pulled his arms into the sleeves of the overcoat. The coat was soiled and smelled funny, but Eren Jaeger didn’t care. He basked in the gesture, his heart feeling full and overwhelmed. And there it was again, the contradiction between his guardian’s words and actions. With a barely concealed smile, Eren pushed the double doors open and the light filtered in, blinding them for a small moment. The Vigilante cast one last glance at the interstellar tunnel, at the hollow of darkness behind them and those doors of the other side.

Doors to Earth.

But before the man could dwell on that blue green world of Eren Jaeger, there was Titan beckoning them back. As soon as they emerged out of the wormhole portal, the Vigilante recognized where they were.

The underground basement of Ritz.

Levi turned disgruntled.

'Hey kid,' he growled.

Eren went pale, looking confoundedly around him.

'I know, Captain. I swear I didn’t mean to bring us back—'

Levi sighed.

'Couldn't you pick a place where— oh, I don't know— where snipers aren’t waiting around to shoot us _on sight_?'

Eren flinched.

Who’d have figured that Hoffstead's coordinates would bring them back to ground zero? He wasn't afforded the time to dwell on his mistakes. Because there was the sound of screeching tires; a heavy vehicle zeroed in on the fugitives and careened towards them. It was a dark vehicle on six wheels, a land rover that could crush them to death if it chose to.

Was it the Military Police?

The Emergency Task Force?

Eren's eyes widened, realising belatedly that he wasn’t armed at all.

He heard a click and turned to find the Vigilante checking the cartridge into his gun. The man caught Eren's shoulder, sweeping the peacekeeper behind him as the vehicle pulled over. The Vigilante raised his gun and pointed the nozzle at the rear of the black vehicle. Steady on the arm, finger at the trigger, hand still on Eren’s shoulder, gripping hard.

The door opened, and a man poked his head out, his mechanical arm extended towards them.

'Need a lift?' he asked.

 

 

 

 

 

Eren sat at the very back of the utility vehicle, keeping his distance. He looked on curiously while the Vigilante exchanged words with the one-armed man. Apparently, the guy's name was Moloch.

Though that robotic arm ought to have all his attention— being a prosthetic that displayed a wicked level of dexterity—Eren's eyes remained fixed on the masked man and not on Moloch. The inkblot face was a mess— a whole splatter of colours from white, black to red and green. Red from the wound, and green from the herbal antiseptic. One arm latched on to the vehicle’s frame, the Vigilante looked weary as he gave his surroundings a scan.

Always alert. Even when injured, Eren noted with a hint of pride.

On the bright side, he seemed to be doing better than before.

The man with the prosthetic arm was talking. Eren picked up bits and pieces of conversation until the vehicle surged into a quieter lane. Here, he could hear them better.

'I can drop you at a private airbase, Vigilante, and lend you one of my men's crafts,' Eren heard Moloch say. 'I trust you can find your way back to Maria on your own.'

The masked man returned a curt nod.

'Thanks for the lift. How did you know where to find me?'

Moloch gave a lacklustre smile. 'It was all over the news, comrade. I knew you'd need reinforcement and indeed, I was correct. I do feel put out that you didn’t tell me you were going to Ulkridge. Didn’t want to share the fun, mate?’

The masked man met Moloch's stare evenly.

'You have a smart mouth and a talent for nosing. I give you that. But it’s none of your business what I do in my private time. What concerns me is why you’re running an _organ_ black market in my territory,’ the Vigilante’s voice dropped and took a dangerous turn. ‘Care explaining _that_ , fork-tongue?'

The revelation made Moloch's smile falter for a brief tic. The loss of composure was rivalled by the fact that the Vigilante’s voice carried a deep unsettling edge. Moloch avoided his gaze and a crooked smile crept up on his lips as he watched Ulkridge's landmarks pass them outside. Skyscrapers aplenty-- the abodes of the fortunate, the gifted and the sanguine, the strata of Titan populace who didn't have much to worry about... other than what gown to wear for a gala dinner, what pet robot to buy for their toddler and how to evade taxes. Monuments of corrupted steel and glass. That's what the metropolis was.

'You disappoint me, Vigilante. I thought _you_ of all people would understand the need for the hour.'

'Understand?' the masked man repeated in distaste. 'Go on, then. Talk. I'm all ears.'

Moloch watched him, unfazed, 

'Good man, where do you think the funds for your artillery comes from? Where do you think _I_ get my money from? How do you presume I built this weapons empire?' Moloch lifted his mechanical arm and let it whirl. 'The organ fleece trade serves the swine and leeches of bubble cities like this one. The very metropolis you hate. Sell them organs, steal their wealth and use the same blood money to cause havoc. It's a system of perfect equilibrium. What better way to rebel! What better way to make the State crumble? Use their _own_ money against them! Sweet delicious irony, that's what it is!’ Moloch roared out a laugh, his body shaking. ‘What's got you in a twist, my good man? Life is cheap in the subpar. Who cares if a few lives are lost—'

Eren ought to have stayed where he was. But like always, he ran headfirst into his mistakes, without shame, without holding back any of his punches. The freak's words brought home the cold, harsh truth. A system! An effing _system_! Before he could control the rise in him, the brown haired young man left his seat, stalked over to the end of the truck and interrupted Moloch mid-speech by bodyslamming into him. Granted, their savior was a lot heavier than he looked and the most Eren succeeded was in startling the giant.

'Few lives?' Eren repeated, baring his teeth. 'Cheap? That's what you call it? A kid named Jerome died, you bastard. All for a kidney. He was just a kid. You didn't even know him, did you? You didn’t know what he looked like or if he had a family— Fuck you and fuck your system!' he spat at the man.

Moloch... who had hitherto never paid Eren any attention, spun his arm and caught Eren by his collar, amused by Eren’s audacity to attack him. He didn't look affronted and studied the peacekeeper as if Eren were a mere gadfly. Moloch’s booming laugh broke the spell of stillness, and he turned to the masked man, curiosity arrayed in his expression.

'Pray, tell me, Vigilante. Who is this _pup,_ and why is it barking at me? One of your own?'

Eren snarled in contempt.

'What the hell did you call me—'

But Eren found a gloved hand wrapping around his wrist and pulling him back.

'Nobody,' the Vigilante answered sharply. 'He's nobody, Moloch.'

Eren was rendered silent at those words. He let himself be pulled aside and watched the masked man, waiting for an explanation, a sign, _anything._

None came.

A flap in the partition opened, and the driver spoke up, defusing the charged air.

'Sir, we've arrived at the airfield.'

Moloch nodded, eyes never leaving Eren.

 

 

 

 

In an oval office in Trost, a bald, uniformed gentleman took a swig of his whisky— a generous swig that by no means appeased his mood. The liquor scorched its way down his throat and feeling barely satisfied, the man gave a low hum and swept the container back into his breast pocket. The wall mounted telescreens showed a montage of images, but his eyes followed just the one screen at the centre. A news report of an 'incident' at the Research Grid. It was funny how the media always termed it as an 'incident' when they had no clue to whatever the hell was going on.

Good ol' press.

Blundering fools groping around in the dark.

The media would eventually come to him with all the questions. And he would feed them yet another cock-and-bull story.

The comm.. buzzed, and Gale announced the name of the caller.

'Rico,' greeted Pixis with a goodnatured smile.

'Sir,' the woman said tensely.

'Have you assessed the damage, Madame?' Pixis asked next.

'Yes, sir. It was a data breach. Forty-two restricted files were transferred from the local server to an undetermined location on a private network. Gale couldn't trace the destination. Our engineers are still trying to figure out the route.'

'I see. And what does our _esteemed_ Grey Baron have to say for himself?'

'Abel Hoffstead believes espionage is out of his field-experience and refuses to co-operate.'

Pixis didn’t bat an eye.

'Ah, no surprise there. These doctors in white coats have always been temperamental. They never do know how to co-operate. What about our suspects?'

'Two, sir. Former PeaceCorp Eren Jaeger. The second is the arsonist alias 'Vigilante'. I regret to inform that we couldn’t apprehend both. Eren used the key, sir.'

Pixis was quiet, and the man furrowed his eyebrows. The mirth was gone from his face replaced by a hard expression.

'Sixty troops deployed on command, and nothing came of it? Is that your report, Rico? Zachlay won’t be pleased nor am I.'

There was a strained silence before Rico cleared her throat with a degree of hesitation.

'… Forgive me, sir,' she finally said.

There was a prolonged pause as Dot Pixis flicked a speck of dust from his sleeve. He was a man who kept a good lid on his temper. But this cat and mouse game was tiring him and the State.

'We await further orders, Commander,' Rico reminded him, still waiting for his reply on the link.

'Orders, hm?' Pixis said, his gaze sweeping the telescreens one last time.

With a resigned sigh, the army man swiveled in his chair and cast a rankled glance at the visitor in his oval office. The blonde sat on the couch, submerged in shadows and waiting for his instructions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The peacekeeper was designated the pilot again. Not that he was going to complain. They were finally going home. Not to 1263 but to their second home— Chromium Shark. The Vigilante passed Eren the keys and took to the seat beside the young man. Eren heard a small groan as the masked man buckled his seat belt, a groan that beset Eren with worry. Would the bandages hold up for the long journey home? Shouldn’t Eren take him to a hospital instead? The younger glanced at the Vigilante in concern, looking out for signs.

The masked man caught on.

'I'm fine. Let's leave now,' he insisted.

'Do you want to go to the... hospital?'

There was a snort.

'And which institution in its right mind would admit a wanted arsonist?'

Eren chewed on a lip, conceding defeat. The man had a point.

Eren gave a hesitant nod and cranked up the engine of the TJ, taking over the console. While the peacekeeper did not like Moloch one bit, he admitted that the one-armed freak show had somehow come through. Moloch had delivered to them the best aircraft in service. As impressed Eren was by this new model, he knew it was better to be careful than sorry. And so he carried out his due diligence: the brunet checked the controls twice, inspected the fuel tank and even the landing gear.

The masked man noticed his overt caution.

'What are you doing?'

Eren stilled, his back going taut.

'Uh. Checking… stuff.'

There was a smile in the voice when it spoke next. The Vigilante seemed to intuit the reason for Eren’s paranoia.

'Don't worry, smartstuff. Moloch wouldn't sabotage our ride. He needs me.'

Eren passed a scrupulous glance at his companion, frowning at him. The young man propelled the jets, and the aircraft took to the air slowly.

'Why?' Eren trailed as he strapped the oxygen mask over his face. 'Why does he need you, sir?' the brunet asked, his voice sounding disembodied through the gear. 'Why do _you_ need him? I can't believe you're working with that creep. You heard him talk. He doesn't care about your people,' Eren said, straining to keep his eyes on the path before them. 

The Vigilante didn't defend himself nor did he try to mince words.

‘Stay out of this, kid,’ he said thickly.

Again, Eren was shut out. With a sigh, Eren steadied the TJ for the long, circuitous journey home.

'You didn't answer me, Captain,' he prodded.

'It doesn't concern you.'

And there were those cold, stinging words again.

'Yeah,' said Eren through clenched teeth, his fingers gripping the console tight. Tight enough to break it. 'Because I don't belong here, right? Just a fucking Earthborn. Because this is your crusade and not mine. After all, I’m just a … nobody. Isn't that correct?'

The inkblot face remained passive, facing the glass of the windshield, pretending to take in the scenery. The scenery of Titan’s barren landscape. They passed out of Ulkridge's borders finally; Eren was glad to say his goodbyes to the city. The TJ rose to its final altitude, the dark evening clouds laid across Titan's sky absorbing them like one of its own. The engine rumbled in the silence of their conversation.

The brunet sighed.

'After all that I've done for you, Captain,' said Eren, 'You don't trust me.'

'You dragged yourself into this,' the masked man finally said.

'Yeah, I know. I dragged my sorry butt into this. I get it,' snapped Eren, his eyes scanning the radar as he switched to auto pilot.

Eren was aware of the masked man turning his head to watch him. The younger wished he wouldn't. Eren was tired of this constant surveillance, especially since he knew who the person behind that mask was. The peacekeeper removed his hands from the console and folded them across his chest. He shivered a little, despite the warmth of the overcoat around him.

Eren rubbed his hands together out of instinct.

The Vigilante noticed the movement.

'You're cold?'

Eren frowned.

'It doesn't matter. '

'What's that supposed to mean? It does matter, kid,' the masked man said. ‘You’ve got a family back home, don’t you? They’d want you warm and safe. Your mother would.'

Eren gauged those words.

'Safe or sheltered?' he retorted, twisting his neck to glare at the man. 'There's a helluva difference between the two, sir.'

A stiff silence followed those words.

The Vigilante didn't attempt to mollify him.

Eren sighed, realizing that this conversation wasn't going anywhere.

'Why—' he began, voice faltering, and sighing, he took a deep breath in. 'Why the hell did you even kiss me? When—'

'When I know that you're married?'

'When you still won't tell me the truth' was what he intended to say. Eren shook his head in frustration and decided to go along with this new question.

'Fine, whatever. What was that kiss all about?'

There was no ready answer.

Eren swallowed the lump in his throat. Figures, Levi wouldn't tell him.

'Do you _like_ me…. or were you—’ Eren chose his next words carefully. ‘— were you pitying me?' the peacekeeper asked. 'Do I really look like some pity party to you?'

The Vigilante watched the floating plantations that had come into view. The man shrugged.

'Don't make this complicated. Just forget it ever happened. We were in a tunnel, emotions were charged. I helped you, you helped me and now… we are even.'

'That's it, huh?'

'Yes.'

'No, I believe I deserve a better explanation.'

The man sighed.

'You're persistent.'

'So, I've been told,’ Eren nodded, biting into his cheek.

And yet, Levi remained resolutely quiet.

Where were those words that Eren had crossed oceans and stars for? At the bottom of a dark abyss, no doubt. Eren looked at the silver band on his finger and stopped himself at the thought. What did he really come this far for? All he had wanted in the beginning was to make sure Levi was alive.

Alive, safe and sound.

So, he was.

Levi was doing swell.

Eren's mission was done. His purpose in coming to Titan was fulfilled. He could leave any moment now, couldn't he? Be the nobody that Levi wanted him to be. Yet the human heart was treacherous. It craved for the past. It craved for how things used to be. And it especially craved for that one glance of the man he loved. Just one small look. Was it too much to ask?

'Fine,' said Eren. 'Let's pretend the kiss… never happened. But can you answer just one question?'

The inkblot face turned to him and gave a wary nod.

'What are you fighting for?' Eren asked him, gesturing to the panorama around them. 'What the heck is this crusade you're on? Is it for the subpar? Are you rebelling against the State? Is this why you're risking your life, Captain?'

The Vigilante went quiet as he adjusted himself in his seat and leaned against the window. There was a perceptive pause, and their conversation was interrupted by rain. Not the rain of water and thunder. But Berium rain. The shedding of the deciduous trees on the floating plantations. The wing-lights of the TJ illuminated the leaves as they descended like a waterfall converging around them. It would have been a beautiful sight in the day. But in the darkness of night, the leaves were like ravens flocking about them. It was a harrowing sight. 

'Freedom,' came the single worded reply amidst the rain of leaves.

Eren turned his wavering attention back to the man.

'What?' he whispered in surprise.

The man nodded.

'Freedom. That's what this war is about.’

Eren studied the Rorschach mask in silence and turned to the front, wringing his hands in his lap.

'Aren't you afraid of… dying?' Eren asked, his voice going soft and timid.

'Heh,' the masked man let out a chuckle. 'Who cares about a faceless man or what ditch he ends up in?'

'People care!' snapped Eren and winced at his own outburst. He lowered his voice again, amending in a calmer voice. 'Your people care and so do _I_. They would hate to see you gone, Captain. It's easy to die but trust me, sir, it's a whole lot tougher to go on living. You know who taught me that?'

The Vigilante didn’t venture to ask since he knew the answer already.

'My husband did,' the younger finished anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

They reached Maria by nightfall.

'I stink like a chemical plant barfed all over me,' the Vigilante said, groaning as he was helped down from the aircraft. Hunter and Farlan lent their aid, helping the Vigilante walk up the porch of Chromium Shark, the masked man's arms stayed linked around each of his comrade's shoulders.

'Your face is all over the news,' Farlan said, his tone reproving. 'The State Intelligence has linked the fiasco at Ritz to the bombing at Trost's Senate. They'll come looking for you, Captain. We have to be on our guard.'

Eren trailed behind them and watched the masked man give a careworn shrug.

'I’m famous, huh? And I didn't even have to take my clothes off. Can’t complain about free publicity.'

The rebel leader didn’t find his humor appealing. 'Captain,' Farlan reproached, shaking his head. 'Were all those theatrics… necessary?'

'You mean taking their prized thinktank hostage? Art of war, Church. Art of war. It will make them afraid. Each poltroon will wonder who's the next target. And the Grey Barons have had it coming for years.'

'Please tell me you didn't—'

'No, I didn't kill Hoffstead. I was tempted. But no.'

Hunter cleared his throat. 'Uh, Cap,’ he began uncertainly. ‘The newbies brought some intel too. Marco said the Military Police is already snooping around, asking for you in Maria.'

Eren watched as the masked man turned his shrouded face to his friend. Farlan nodded, confirming the news.

'Please tell me you won't be putting me under house arrest, Farlan. You know how much I hate being cooped.'

His friend in the cloak smiled as he regarded Levi with a gleam in his eyes. 'That won't be necessary. You have the loyalty of the people. But take my advice, it would be prudent to lay low for a few days.'

'You sound like Izzie.'

Farlan winked at him.

'Speaking of Isabel, we have a new member to add to this troupe of renegades.'

There was a pause as the Vigilante tried to discern the meaning of those words.

Hunter grinned beside him. 'Yes, a new queen bee,' he piped in enthusiasm. 'Prepare to be bowled over, Cap.'

The voices drowned as Eren watched the doors close.

The brunet was left standing on the porch, forgotten by all.

 

Church.

 

F. Church.

 

Farlan Church.

 

He understood now.

 

 

_You're not on your own. Eren Jaeger, I'll be glad to assist you in your search._

 

He'd been duped alright. And he had fallen for it— hook, line and sinker. Eren lingered on the front steps of Chromium Shark, his hand curled around the door knob. He'd got the wool pulled over his eyes, alright. And not just by that prick of a husband. But the man's friends too. Perhaps Eren had been wrong. Maybe Levi didn't need him as Eren hoped he would. True, Levi was an orphan of the street, but he wasn't alone here. He had his many friends like Isabel Magnolia whom he trusted with his own life. Comrades like Farlan Church who Levi even called upon as a witness to their wedding. People from Levi's past who shared his sense of purpose and mission, who he didn't feel the need to hide from. And Levi had a new home here as well. A new home, this place 'Chromium Shark’ which Levi chose over their humble one bedroom apartment.

So, what was Eren in all this?

Did he have a place here?

Was he going to be just that _other_ guy?

Some kinda temp?

Or worse… _nobody?_

The brown-haired peacekeeper burrowed his hand into his pockets. Inside the fabric of his pants, he found something he had buried from his short stint on Earth.

He took it out slowly, fearful of crushing it.

He remembered what it was.

When Levi had been wounded, Eren bartered his tuxedo coat and shirt for medical supplies without a second thought. Saving Levi had been his prerogative. It was _always_ his prerogative. But before handing over the jacket, he’d removed something from the buttonhole. Something that the Inuit attached no value to.

Eren opened his fingers, and there it was.

On his palm lay a red rose, frail and battered from all that running and chasing. But he'd held on to it. The browning stub of a stem stretched on his palm to the silver band of his wedding ring. Eren folded his fingers over the red petals, wondering why he kept it. Why was he still holding on to this shriveled up rose? Because Levi had given it to him? Or because in that short moment, Eren Jaeger had felt himself to mean something more. That his coming to Titan had not been in vain.

His thoughts were cut short.

The front door opened, startling Eren.

He was further surprised by the sight behind it. Jean Kirstein stood, dressed in slacks and a blood spotted t shirt. His forehead was sweaty and the bags under his eyes showed signs of little sleep. Jean gawked at him in equal measure, his hazel eyes searching Eren from head to toe. He pointed at the brunet with a latex glove finger.

'What the hell, you dipshit. You look worse than roadkill. You got mauled over by a land rover or somethin'?'

Eren let slip a smile and nodded.

'Yeah. I do in fact _feel_ like roadkill.'

Jean scowled.

'Where’s your shirt?'

'Long story. Don't ask, Kirstein. Please _don't_ ask.'

Jean observed the fellow peacekeeper in silence before his shoulders eased, tension fleeing them. The taller man smirked and lifted his hands up in a mock gesture.

'I'd give you a hug to cheer you up…. But I've got amniotic fluid all over me.'

Eren raised an eyebrow, his mouth parting open in confusion. Realisation set in soon enough.

'Izzie gave birth?' Eren asked incredulously, his gaze travelling over Jean’s shirt and the gloves. 'And wait, _you_ helped deliver the baby? You’re kidding me!'

Jean nodded faintly, grimacing at the memory. 'Damn right, I did. It’s gonna be the highlight of my life. And for the record, that girl is as bossy as her mom.'

Eren didn't know whether to be impressed or amused. A girl, he noted to himself silently. So, it was a girl.

'Another feather to add to your horse hat,' Eren teased, breaking into a sly smile. 'I'm proud of you.'

'Shut up, bastard.'

Eren kept smiling and walked over to Jean, closing the distance between them, and gave the other man a giant bear hug. Amniotic fluid or not, it was a relief to see Jean.

The hazel eyed man was faintly surprised by the move. Jean froze up, wondering where the hug had come from, and it didn't take him long... to put two and two together.

'The date was _that_ bad, huh?'

Eren closed his eyes, sighing.

'It wasn't a date,' he grumbled, picking up the slew of their old argument. But his heart wasn't into it. 

Jean craned his neck and watched his partner in unease. 'C’mon, man. It couldn't have been worse than mine. I just delivered the spawn of a she-devil.'

Eren chuckled against his shoulder. Funny how Jean always managed to make him laugh, funny how the ashbrown knew when Eren was at his lowest and knew just the right things to say. 

'You have a point,' Eren acknowledged in their awkward embrace. 'And hey, don't let Isabel hear you say that.'

Jean smirked and gave the brunet a lingering pat on his brown head. His arms came down to wrap around Eren and after a long-drawn pause, the ashbrown ventured to ask that one question on his mind.

'So, uh... any luck finding the guy?'

There was a pause. A heavy pause to allow Eren to sort out his feelings. The peacekeeper smiled into Jean's shoulder and shook his head gravely.

'Not yet, Jean. He's out there somewhere. I’m just not sure... if he wants me to find him.'

 

 

 

* * *

 

 


	71. Family

 

 

 

Chapter-71- Family

~.~

 

The baby didn't have her mother's red tresses. Instead, she inherited her father's wavy dark hair. Her tuft of hair was all Levi could see of the bundle that Isabel held close to her breast. The change in Izzie was remarkable. She was less cranky and less melodramatic. Though worn out from her labour pains, Isabel was all spirit and beaming smiles, her eyes never leaving that offspring of hers. The nursing mother cooed to her child, made funny faces at it, but the infant was turning out to be an early rebel. Yes, a true renegade... and she was taking after her mother already. The child had dozed off and showed no signs of opening her eyes despite Magnum giving her pinky a shake, trying to nudge the infant to wakefulness.

Levi pulled a chair quietly and sat down near the mother's bed. He was tired, and his headache lingered, but he'd wanted to greet the new-born before retiring to his room.

Isabel looked up to smile at him and that was when she caught the stained mess of his mask. A shadow crossed her features; the smile disappearing instantly.

 _'Hostia puta._ For goodness sake. Are you alright, _hermano_? Is that… blood?'

'I’m fine,' assured Levi, aware of the youngsters shuffling into the room behind him. This wasn't the time for explanations, because Marco and Jean had arrived. The young men were standing at the door, speaking between themselves in low voices. Levi turned away when a third joined their company. Eren. Freshly showered and donning a shirt for a change, Eren was rubbing a towel through his messy hair and trying to get past his friends.

Levi turned his attention to the new family and watched Isabel exchange a knowing glance with Magnum.

'What?' Levi asked the two of them suspiciously.

Isabel gave a cryptic sigh. 'Magnum says the State is on the lookout for you, _hermano_. They know you are here in Maria. We can trust the people to keep quiet but... if there’s even _one_ mole, we are done for. Do you understand? We can't run that risk. You need to keep a low profile, Captain. _Please_.'

Levi sat back in his chair, sliding an arm around it.

'I know how to take care of myself, Izzie,' he insisted.

Isabel espied him carefully.

'I sure hope so,' she finally said. _'Mi reina_ wouldn't want her leader to be reckless, would she now?'

' _Reina_?' Levi echoed in that gruff, hollow voice of his and a bark of laughter left him. 'You guys are utter crap at picking names. Spare the kid, will you? It's bad enough I have to hear you go _amante, amante_ all the time.'

Isabel stuck her tongue out at him childishly.

'It was just a namesake. Besides, we were waiting till you got here. _Bebé_ needs a name from her godfather.'

The words had caught him by surprise. They stared at each other in silence until Levi sat up and shook his hooded face solemnly. 'No, Izzie. I can't be her godfather. Choose Farlan, not me,' the masked man trailed, looking at his gloved fingers ‘—I’ve got blood on my hands.’

The redhead glared at him.

'Oh, don't think you can weasel out of this. We’ve already chosen so there's no going back,' she caught his hand against his will. Isabel smiled warmly at him and squeezed his palm. 'And these hands are not stained with blood,' she said in a soft voice. 'I know you, Captain. You have avoided taking lives where you could. I have seen you treasure life in these hands,' Isabel smiled as she said this. 'Trust me, _hermano_. There is no greater honor for _bebé_ than you accepting to be her godfather. Please don’t refuse this.'

Without waiting for his answer, Isabel leaned forward and pressed the bundle to him.

The Vigilante realised what she was attempting to do.

'No, Izzie,' he said.

'Hold her,' the redhead insisted, hissing at him. 'Just hold her, you darned armadillo.'

The masked man accepted the lump into his arms and with a heavy sigh, he risked a look at the infant.

And there she was.

A cherub.

Pink cheeks, wriggly limbs and a button nose. So goddam tiny.

A month premature, but there was the human life breathing all by itself, even in this world of the inferior.

Levi could feel Isabel smiling in triumph.

'Come on, out with it. How does she look?' the innkeeper badgered.

He didn't want to stroke the mother's ego, and he could have easily been a wet blanket. Calling ugly names was an ability, he prided himself to have. But Levi couldn't help marvel at the sight of this lifeform in his hands.

'Cute,' was his honest, single worded reply.

A strange silence followed it. Marco and Jean stopped whispering. Eren, who’d managed to squeeze through his compatriots, stiffened when he heard it. Isabel glowed.

'Of course, she’s cute. She is my baby, after all. My gumdrop has half my genes inside her.'

'Oye, oye. What about _my_ half?' protested Magnum and turned glum when no one paid him any attention.

Levi watched the infant and nodded. 'Yes, it's surprising that she came from a fat cow like you and that dunderhead over there.'

Isabel wasn't amused by his remark; she slapped his bicep, scowling at the masked man.

The Vigilante nodded, still gazing at the child.

'Alright, alright, I won't make fun of you today. Congrats,' said Levi at long last, 'A child is a blessing and a responsibility. Families are precious. Protect them with your heart,' the masked man said, rising to his feet while still holding the infant.

'You sound like an old man,' Isabel deadpanned.

'I _am_ an old man. A _fifty-year-old_ perverted old man. Isn't that right, Izzie?'

Isabel grinned, avoiding his eye and instead, she looked up at Magnum. The couple exchanged a glance.

'We need to celebrate, _amante_. Considering how you didn't even get a midwife to help me through.'

'Hey,' Jean butted in from the doorway. 'No midwife? What the hell was I? The next door neighbor giving moral support?'

Isabel ignored him gleefully and turned back to her lover.

The man with the dreadlocks nodded in enthusiasm. He caught her shoulder, bent down and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose.

'Of course, hot mama,’ said Magnum. ‘We are going to celebrate big time. How about a party, huh? I'll get the fireworks, music, booze—' he caught the sharp glare from Isabel. 'Okay, no booze, no booze— sorry, it was a slip of the tongue.'

Levi shook his head at the stammering aide.

'Magnum, grow some balls, will you? You're the definition of henpecked—'

The Vigilante stopped speaking. For the baby in his arms squirmed, jostled out of her sleep by the voices of the adults surrounding her. And as she opened her eyes for the first time. Levi couldn’t help but smile behind his mask. The child had not inherited her mother's hair, but she’d got the eyes.

Yes, Izzie’s green eyes. Incandescent green depths stared back at him vividly, taking in all of him at once. There was a friendly curiosity in that gaze, a lurking childlike laughter and a small, stubby hand reached out for him.

The Vigilante had a reckoning.

The masked man turned to Isabel sharply.

'Izzie, take the girl. She’ll be frightened—'

But Isabel's hand on his own reassured him.

'It's okay. Sshh,' she said, trying to calm them both. She reached over and looked at her daughter in the Vigilante’s arms. 'Hey there, _bebé,_ ’ she cooed to her daughter. ‘How are you doing, sweetie. Aw, doesn't she look adorable? Come on, _hermano_. See, she isn't scared of you. Now would be a good time to name her, y’know.'

The Vigilante looked at the child in his arms.

Dark hair. Those green eyes on a vibrant face. And fearless.

He'd seen it once before. And he’d carried the face in his memories since that one time. He looked towards the doorway, searching for that one person from his memories. Eren met his gaze uneasily.

'A name, huh?' Levi murmured into the thin silence between them. 'Sol. Name her… Sol.'

'Sol?' Isabel echoed, going thoughtful.

There was a silence as Isabel followed his line of sight and caught the peacekeeper staring back at them quizzically. Realisation dawned on the redhead, she smiled and waved to the brunet gregariously, motioning him to come forward.

'Eren, you want to hold the baby? Come on, _guapo_. Now's your chance before she dozes off again.'

The young man hesitated, looking like he’d been put on spot. He glanced between the family and the Vigilante, his expression turning sullen. Much to everyone's surprise, Eren shook his head, declining the offer.

'Maybe later... I need to, uh, check up on Armin,' the young man said and taking a step back, he withdrew from the room, leaving their company in haste.

An awkward silence hung in the wake of Eren’s departing footsteps. 

Isabel turned to the Vigilante, looking a little hurt. 

'What happened? Did—Did I say something wrong?' she inquired, letting her hand fall back.

No one in the room answered.

The redhead looked down and sniffed at her maternity clothes. 'Do I smell? I reek, don't I? By Nyse, Magnum, why didn't you tell me! Didn't I stress how important communication is, _amante_.'

The Vigilante remained moodily silent and turned back to the child. The baby squirmed in the fold of his arms again, growing restless. She looked up at him and reached out with a tiny, knobbly hand to touch his nose. The inkblot pattern swirled in anticipation. While he had denied the other 'Sun' in his life this small privilege, he allowed the infant child to do it. He let Sol touch his mask, eliciting a giggle in return for his kindness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eren heard Jean and Marco's voice calling out to him. Asking him to come back. But he didn't heed to their calls and darted downstairs in a hurry to leave. He didn't know why he was running away. Heck, he'd faced off his share of enemies before: an armoured droid, thugs, slave traders, his Fluid Mechanics paper and even demonic dentists (with due support from Armin) but here was the peacekeeper running away from a... kid.

A baby of all things.

He didn't understand it himself.

Eren walked into the hall, his footsteps treading light on the worn rug. He made his way to the kitchen of Chromium Shark, where he found his best friend hunched over the table with a soldering iron. He’d startled Armin — ‘Eren? When did you get back?’— but refused to be drawn into conversation with his best friend. Instead, he left through the backdoor. Thankfully, the blond didn't follow him out either, because Hunter had caught Armin's sleeve and pulled him back.

Left to his own devices, Eren found himself in the backyard of the inn. A wasteland with bags of sand, a few potted cacti and a large apparatus constructed in the middle. The metal fencing separated the yard from Maria’s merchant neighbourhood. Eren took to the shelter of the machine in the middle— a machine that he'd often heard in the night toiling away like a drone. There was that sound again, loud and mechanical in his ears. The noise of a motor and a pump. He walked towards it, because right now, even a machine's company sounded promising.

He deduced that this was the water rig that Armin once told him about. The one that had rendered his best friend into a mud monster. The rig was an interconnection of metal posts, its girt and rafters encasing a heavy pump drilled deep into the Titan soil. Its foghorn sound was hypnotic to his ears. Repetitive and humdrum.

_Chug._

_Chug._

_Burp._

_Chug._

_Chug._

_Burp._

His weight supported by a metal post, Eren watched the rig mutely. He'd assumed there would be no one here. He'd thought he could finally flee those friendly conversations (woot! woot!) and beaming faces. But the truth about silence was— it made his thoughts louder. Loud enough to replace the comforting vacuum of silence. Eren realised he wasn't alone either. Nor was he the only one who’d fled from the joie-de-vivre in the air.

He caught sight of a cloaked shadow and found Farlan sitting under the shadow of the rafters, observing him.

The man sat up straight.

‘Hello Eren. You felt like getting fresh air too, hm?' Farlan remarked, giving the peacekeeper a genial nod in welcome. Eren didn’t return the greeting. Instead, the young man sat down against the metal post, pulling his knees to his chest.

Farlan smoothened out his tunic and gave the younger a guarded look, as if wondering what Eren was doing here. 'Well, as fresh as air can be in Titan,' he finished his thought dourly, frowning at the sky above them.

'Yeah, fresh air,' said Eren, his voice dripping with sarcasm; he sounded so bitter even to himself. 'That's what I am here for,' he trailed peevishly. 'Goddam fresh air.'

The rebel leader detected the annoyance in him. But he didn't question Eren.

Nor was Eren in the mood to talk to him. He'd never had a one-on-one conversation with Farlan before. Because in the beginning, the rebel leader had been a mere stranger to him. A kind host who’d invited him to stay on at Chromium Shark. But now, Farlan was hardly the 'stranger'. He’d played the good cop to Levi's bad cop. And here, Eren's thoughts hit a sensitive nerve. He ran a hand through his hair furiously, a dozen imprecations ready to slip his mouth.

Did the two men have a good laugh over the charade?

Did they enjoy making a fool out of Eren?

The brunet balled his fingers into a fist and bit into his skin.

This was wrong. Why was he angry with Farlan?

The rebel leader had helped them out in the past before. He must have risked a lot by agreeing to be the witness to their marriage. Eren was grateful for that old favor, and he’d always regretted not being able to thank the 'faceless hobo' who'd signed the register for them. No, the person he ought to be angry at— was nobody but Levi.

Levi with his people.

Levi with his big, fat happy _family_.

Levi with that... baby.

 _Cute_ , the man called it.

What was so cute about a baby? So unfair.

And it came to Eren's realisation that he was jealous. 

Jealous of a kid who wasn't even a day old.

If hell was reserved for liars, adulterers and murderers, he was darn sure there was a place reserved in inferno for people like him. People who turned jealous of an infant. And what else could he do when Levi looked so much at home? Eren could give a mountain of love to that guy, devotion till the last drop of blood and a chase to the ends of the universe but _this_... this _baby_ thing was a hurdle even he couldn't cross.

_Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud._

That’s what his mom had said.

He wanted to apologise to her. Because in the end, Eren Jaeger was indeed jealous, upset and miserable at being just a guy, just this guy. Just this _other_ guy. When Levi might have already moved on. His husband was happy here. Yeah, the jerk was happy—

_Chug._

_Chug._

_Burp._

'Happy without me. He doesn't even _miss_ me,' Eren concluded with a heavy sigh. He wrung his hands into his chequered shirt and buried his face into his elbows.

'Is everything... alright?' a voice interrupted him.

It occurred to Eren that Farlan was still watching him. The peacekeeper looked up, meeting the man’s concerned gaze and nodded gloomily. ‘It’s cool,’ he said. 'Everything's fine and dandy.'

Farlan didn’t seem to buy it but didn’t probe. His face remained lit in concern as he studied the peacekeeper and cleared his throat.

'I heard... you had quite the adventure in Ulkridge,' the man said, trying to lighten the atmosphere with a friendly jest. 'I hope the tuxedo fit you.'

Eren grimaced at the mention of the garment, remembering what he’d done with it.

'Uh, about your tux,’ Eren fidgeted in his spot, turning sheepish. ‘I’m sorry. I kinda lost it along the way. I hope that wasn't the only one you had?' he trailed nervously.

The rebel leader laughed.

'It's alright, Eren. Don't worry about it. I am just relieved that you and the Captain returned safe. We were worried when we saw the news on The Ritz. I should have sent in reinforcements but Izzie's...uh, _situation,_ kept us occupied.'

Eren nodded and before he could help it, a chuckle slipped him.

Farlan looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

'Did I say something funny?' the rebel leader asked, turning puzzled.

Eren nodded and crossed his legs before him, his smile turning into a laugh.

'Situation, huh? Guess you're not the type to go gaga over babies either,' said Eren wryly.

Farlan blinked in surprise and looked away, his attention wavering to the rig. He went oddly quiet, and Eren wondered if he shouldn’t have made that comment. An awkward silence enveloped between the two men— two men separated by ages, distance and origins, but connected by that singular figure of their past. 'You're intuitive, Eren,' Farlan finally admitted. 'It's just that both the Captain and I are not very good with people. We’re not exactly the sociable kind. We don’t know how to deal with adults, let alone children. Babies don't get born very often around here either. Not a lot of women around if you've noticed.'

Eren understood what he meant.

'So, I've noticed,' the brunet agreed, 'Is that why everyone is gung ho about the baby?'

The older man got to his feet and walking over to the edge of the rig, Farlan gave a look into the pit, examining its levels. He hummed a 'yes' in answer. 'Plus, it’s Izzie and Magnum's baby. The child will grow up to be an underground queen alright,' he said, giving Eren a wink. 'Just like her mum and dad.'

His cheerfulness seemed forced. Eren noted a melancholy behind those words.

'Farlan?'

'Yes?'

'Can I ask you something?'

The rebel leader turned to him.

'Sure, be my guest.'

Eren thought hard for a long moment, phrasing and rephrasing the question in his mind a hundred times. It was something he’d always wanted to know, something Levi had avoided talking about.

'You and the Captain,’ he hesitated. ‘You guys go way back, don't you?' he finally asked.

The tall, blond man watched him, the rig all forgotten. A shadow crossed his features and the peacekeeper knew the question had caught him by surprise. Farlan must be wondering why Eren was asking him about the Vigilante of all people.

Eren tapped his knees and hastened to clarify. 'What I want to know is what was he like? I mean,' he gave a shaky laugh, 'I mean—Was Vigilante the same righteous Scarlet Pimpernel back then too?'

'Scarlet Pimpernel?' repeated Farlan Church, looking confused.

Eren frowned at himself. 'Uh, Masked French dude who went around saving people. Of course, you wouldn't know him. Sorry, never mind,' Eren slapped his forehead at his stupidity. 

Farlan smiled at his flustered explanation. It struck Farlan how Eren exhibited every emotion in the spectrum without restraint. Going from raving mad to endearingly clumsy in the same breath. 'You might find it surprising, Eren, but yes. The Captain and I— Well, we didn't have a happy childhood. We've seen things, done things neither of us is proud of. We were always on the run, you know. Running from the fuzz. Running from parents... well, mine to be exact. The Captain didn't have any folks. Growing up in Maria where food, water and shelter are scarce is not something I'd wish for any child,' he grew morose and gave the monstrous machine before them a long look. 'But we are making changes. One step at a time.'

'Changes?' said Eren.

Farlan nodded enthused, his face lighting up, and it was as if a spirit had possessed him. 'See this rig, Eren?' he asked, pointing to the pump. 'Hunter and Magnum assembled it all by themselves. Of course, we had to make a few raids for the equipment. But the risk was worth it because this rig that you see here… supplies water to three fourths of Maria. That's an accomplishment, don't you agree?'

Eren watched the machine in amazement.

_Chug._

_Chug._

_Burp._

'Really? That’s pretty neat. Whose idea was it?'

'Captain's,' Farlan said with a proud smile. 'He said that freedom starts with equal opportunity. Food, water, safety and a roof,' Farlan said, walking over to the brown haired young man and sat down beside Eren. Shoulder to shoulder, the two men watched the pump work strenuously. Farlan nodded to himself, affirming those words. 'The war with the State only comes second. That’s what he said. Tell me, Eren. Do you still think he is a gun toting terrorist?’

The question lingered in the silence, and Eren realised the rebel leader was waiting for his answer.

Eren shook his head.

'No, of course not.'

Farlan looked relieved by his answer.

'I am glad. But there's more to be done. We can't get a decent education here or medical aid when we need it. Which is what the rebellion is for.'

Eren looked at Farlan and remembered an old conversation on top of a meadow. When he had been sixteen and his hero was apparently taking a break from crime fighting.

_Sometimes, Eren, it's important to remove yourself from a problem and look at it from a third perspective. Did you ever ask yourself what these people are fighting for?_

_Remember there are two sides to a war. Whose side do you think we should be on?_

 

That's what the man had taught him. What Levi's Obi Wan had told Eren's immature, young Luke Skywalker.

Eren gave a rueful smile at the old memory. 'So, that's what you were fighting for, huh. Seems like you guys are the real peacekeepers. I spent eight years under a State banner, and I don't know what the heck I was even protecting,' rued the young man.

He was being honest, truly honest. Because he remembered those limp, lifeless bodies in Titan's laboratory. Eren buried the events of the Research Grid at the back of his head. He buried those ghosts in the glass chambers for another time, a time when he hoped he had all the answers.

There was a silence, and Eren got up from his seat, dusting himself. He smoothed his shirt and re-smoothed it, fidgeting in his spot.

'I know I’m probably pestering you, but can I ask one last thing... Farlan?'

'Of course,' said the man as he left his spot to check on the rig.

Eren scratched his nape awkwardly and decided to leg it. 'The Captain... uh, did he have any hot girlfriends or hunky boyfriends back in the day?'

The man whirled around in surprise. Farlan Church, leader of the rebels, had expected many questions from the Earthborn. But certainly not this. 'What?' he asked in confusion.

Eren scratched his nose in embarrassment, his ears turning a little red. 'Sorry. Forget I said anything. It—It was a stupid question. I-I should head back,' saying which, the brunet hastened to leave. But Farlan's voice stopped him in his tracks. The older man had heard him alright, he had heard Eren loud and clear.

'There was no one.'

Eren almost stumbled at those words.

'There was no one, Eren.'

The peacekeeper turned back and watched as Farlan rubbed the dirt off his knees. The cloaked man smiled in nostalgia.

'The Captain thought love was for the saps. You know how he is. He is too disciplined, too stuck up. He built a fortress around him for years. Izzie and I used to joke that he was probably asexual.'

Returning a small smile of his own, Eren swallowed the knot in his throat and looked at his right hand, twisting the ring out of habit. There was the water rig, pumping water to three fourths of Maria, working quietly and industriously in the background.

_Chug._

_Chug._

_Burp._

Like a live, beating heart.

'Eren, you know something odd?' Farlan trailed in amusement. 'He said he didn't believe in love. But for some strange reason... the Captain was always looking at the stars.'

 

 

 

 

The mask was floating in the bathtub, its palette of colors slowly washing out of the fabric. The voice modulator lay astray on the sink and the padded shoes had been thrown carelessly against the tiled floor. A heavily bandaged Levi sat shirtless on the ground, his back to the bathtub while Farlan removed a glass shard lodged in the shorter man's foot. The shrapnel had pierced the boot from the underside, and it was a miracle that Levi had managed to walk despite the discomfort.

'You trust Erwin?' Farlan asked him. 'The Ritz business was risky. I don't like that commander of yours.'

Levi smirked.

'You know how it works, Farlan. Give and take. One favour for another. You're just mad because of that old grudge of yours. Because Erwin is the one who persuaded me to join the PeaceCorps.'

His old friend did not agree with him.

'Right! And look at the mighty good that's done for you, Rivaille,' remarked Farlan, giving a sharp tug at his foot. 'Speaking about peacekeepers and your lot, I had a little talk with Eren some time ago,' the man said, wrapping a roll of bandage around Levi’s injured foot.

Levi stilled but said nothing, wincing when he pulled a thigh muscle. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, surprised to see his own face in a long time. There were his sallow eyes; there was his sickly pale skin. It was him alright. Would it be odd if he began to forget his own face?

'Eren was asking me about you,' Farlan continued.

'Did he now?' Levi said, running a hand through his undercut. A frown flitted across his lips. 'Wait. _Which_ me?'

Farlan humoured his friend with a chuckle, glad to have his attention. 'The _new_ you. He was awfully interested in the Vigilante's childhood. I am not sure if that's good or bad. Tell me something, Rivaille. Aren't you worried that he might be falling for the Vigilante? Are you good with that?'

'Tch. Do you want me to be jealous of _myself_?'

'I don’t know. Perhaps that’s your plan. Do you want him to fall for the new you?'

Levi turned away, evading the question, and he studied the mask floating in the bathtub.

So typical, Farlan thought to himself. Because there was that fortress Levi was building around himself again.

'You know... I didn't understand it before. But I get it now,' Farlan said.

Levi gave him an inquiring look.

His friend shrugged. 'I always assumed Eren was too immature... too young for you. He didn't seem the sort who cared about our people, our problems. But I see the error in my assumption. I understand now. What's so special about him. What _you_ see in him,' Farlan told him.

'Heh. And what's that?' Levi challenged, curious himself.

Farlan set the foot down gently and met his gaze with twinkling eyes.

'He has heart. A passionate heart. He is a good listener, and he cares very much. Especially about you, Rivaille. He adores you, even the Vigilante part of you, despite all your failings. That takes courage and insight.'

If Farlan had been hoping to cheer his friend up, he'd been wrong. The raven-haired man looked more morose than before.

'Tell me, Farlan,' trailed Levi, drumming his fingers over his pant leg. 'You think that's a good thing? Do you really think it's alright for anyone to be so fucking _attached_ to another person?'

Farlan looked at his Captain in puzzlement.

Levi turned and scowled at the mask in the bathtub.

'It isn't healthy, Church. And it's getting more difficult to keep this a secret from him.'

'Why don't you just come out to him? Tell him the truth.'

'Tell him? You think he'll be able to walk away after that? I know him, Farlan. He won't ever leave if I tell him the truth. He’s adamant and stubborn to the bone. Tunnel-visioned, that’s what he is. I've looked after that brat long enough, I know him inside out. He isn't afraid of anything, has a temper that flares at the slightest provocation. He has a knack for mouthing off too. I remember all the dumb stuff he did in the past because he wanted to be seen, heard, or understood. I know he's calmed down over the years. But you know what the catch is?'

'What?' Farlan prodded.

Levi smirked.

'Eren picked up all _my_ bad habits instead.'

His friend of old times smiled. 'For someone who hates the age gap, you do sound like his dad. You sure you aren't the one with the son complex, Rivaille?' Farlan teased, pulling at his foot playfully.

Levi glared in return but shrugged. He craned his neck, trying to exercise the cramp out of it.

'You and Izzie aren't going to stop harping on that, are you?'

The rebel leader shook his head and closed the first-aid box. 'We tease you, because you are still touchy about it, Hanging Man. Picking up each other's habits is normal. Besides, isn't that what a marriage is all about? You complete him. Surely, it works the other way too. Doesn’t…it?'

Levi looked down at his hands, free from their gloves.

'He taught me things too,’ he admitted. ‘He gave me the taste of freedom. You ever notice how resilient he is? Throw everything at him, and he’ll come right back. Never waits, never thinks too much. Even his mistakes have a purity to them. That’s freedom for you. Not being sorry for wanting something. Brat’s good at that.’

The blond man stilled.

'Is that so?'

Levi gave a small nod.

'But more than freedom, he gave me something more,' said Levi into the discomfiting silence. ‘A family.’

Farlan pursed his lips, watching his friend withdraw.

The raven-haired man propped an elbow on one knee. Sighing, he sank against the tub and looked into the distance, the mind's eye locked on to some memory of the past.

'I don't know what to do with him. He doesn't ever remember where he puts his socks, you know. Life... is going to be tough on him.'

For the first time, Farlan didn't know what to say, his mouth going dry. Nodding, he squeezed Levi's shoulder in support and looked around the bathroom. 'Don't think too hard. You need food and a good, long sleep. I'll get something for you to eat first,' the rebel leader promised as he picked himself up.

Farlan left the bathroom. He slipped out of the Vigilante's room at the end of the corridor, closing the door behind him gently.

Levi found himself in the company of solitude again.

Another of his old friends.

 

 

 

 

In the kitchen of Chromium Shark, Armin took off his goggles and tossed it away in triumph.

'EUREKA!' he said, pumping his fists in air. ‘Jiminy Cricket, I’m downright awesome!’

He'd have done his happy victory dance too if it weren't for Hunter watching him in bafflement.

The Titan in the tweed jacket, who had a goatee, a body like a tank machine and a fully equipped toolbox (which Armin appreciated more than his other qualities) wrinkled his nose at the boy.

'I thought the pup's name was Krobe. Is it Eureka now?' Hunter asked in confusion. 'Can we stick to one name, kid?'

Armin sighed and patted the alien man's shoulder in good camaraderie. 'Eureka is a term we, earthlings, employ when we achieve anything extraordinarily cool like...' he motioned to the droid pup sitting on the table, 'well, like fixing an alien ROBODOG. Huzzah!'

'Hot damn! It's fixed?' a new voice added itself to the discussion.

Armin watched as Jean sauntered into the kitchen, a towel hanging around his shoulders. The tall young man was wearing khakis and a button-down shirt he'd borrowed from one of the inmates. The ashbrown walked over to the table and stared down at the droid, giving it the once over. Krobe was sitting on its hind legs, its mechanical head held stiff as it stared at the wall. Its beady red eyes were lit up but there was no sign of recognition in them.

'You sure it's fixed, man?' Jean asked with a frown. 'Looks a little kooky to me. I don't remember the mutt being this quiet.'

Hunter reached into his pocket and drew out a small circuit board.

'No worries, peeps. That's because I have his memory chip right here.'

The two young men from Earth watched on, stupefied, as the Titan opened a flap on Krobe's neck and inserted the chip diligently. He closed the flap, and the reaction was instantaneous. Moments ago, the droid had been the very picture of a monk, stately and serene. Now, the Rottweiler pup looked like it was high on sugar and a flurry of excitement flooded its nerves. Its gaze flickered to them, bouncing from one man to the other and recognizing none. The machine dog barked at the strangers, making the three men jump from their seats. Having tested its vocal chords, it ran around in circles, chasing its own tail.

The three men drew back against the kitchen cabinets, watching the canine warily.

Hunter pulled at his goatee while Jean nudged Armin's shoulder.

'Way to go, whiz kid. Eren's going to be really happy if he sees his dog kookier than before.'

Armin looked on dejectedly. 'But- But I put it back perfectly. Piece by piece,' the blond whimpered, wincing at the sight of Krobe pouncing and making a dramatic leap to the floor. The droid landed not so gracefully, tumbling on all fours and yelped in distress. Krobe rolled on the floor, almost knocking itself out against the bar counter.

'Perfect, huh?' Jean said, shaking his head pitifully at the abject machine.

‘Give it some time, you snob. It needs to get oriented,’ Armin said in Krobe’s defense. 

They watched as the droid shook itself from its woozy and then sniffed the ground. It went alert suddenly and began following a zigzag route across the kitchen, ears perked up in attention. As if it'd caught whiff of some familiar scent.

'What's it doing?' Armin asked Jean, frowning at the dog.

And before either of them could react, the droid mutt looked to the hallway and without giving a warning, it dashed down the corridor. The dog left them in the dust. Jean and Armin looked at each other in surprise before giving chase after the puppy. They ran after it through the inn, watching it disappear under tables, chairs, shelves of silverware until it finally turned around the corner of the hall. They arrived at the stairwell, breathless and embarrassed to have been outwitted by a robodog of all things. Because suddenly, there was no sign of the pup. It’d disappeared from right under their noses, vanished straight out of sight.

'Dude, you should have put a fucking LEASH on it!' Jean lamented in disbelief.

The blond scowled at him.

'The hell!’ Armin snapped. ‘How was I supposed to know it could run so damned fast on those little legs? Where the heck is it?' asked Armin, looking around the place, straining to catch sight of the droid. 'KROBE! Here boy! Come back, you stupid mutt!'

Jean caught sight of the entrance to the inn, the doors left carelessly open. Jean tugged at Armin's sleeve and pointed to it.

'Oh man,' Armin sighed. ‘It went outside? Eren's gonna be super upset if it gets run over or something.'

Jean pointed to the landing above.

'It can’t have gone far. You look outside, shortie. I will go check upstairs.'

‘Sure.’

Armin agreed and without losing a moment to beat, the two young men parted ways.

Jean climbed the stairs, feeling sorry for Armin who’d pulled the shorter end of the straw. The saint would have to spend the rest of the day, chasing after a droid pup. While Jean was going to drop the chase, return to their room and tuck himself into bed. That’s exactly what he intended to do. Heck, he deserved the rest after delivering the bitchy innkeeper's baby. Cute kid. Not so cute mother, he admitted to himself. And if luck was really with him, Eren might be there to give him company.

As Jean strode over to their shared room, a whine cut through the silent corridor.

A very mechanical whine.

Jean's shoulders slumped, and he caught himself scowling.

No, he thought.

Oh blast it, no!

The whine was accompanied by scraping sounds and with a heavy sigh, he turned to the corridor drowned in shadows. Resigning to the quest ahead, the ashbrown walked the length of the corridor, passing six empty rooms until he came to the last one. And there it was. The stupid mongrel. Krobe was scratching the gap between the door and the floor, as if there was a bone hidden in there, and he had to have it at all cost. Persistent little bugger just like its owner.

'What the heck is wrong with you?' Jean asked the droid, kneeling beside it.

The mutt yipped excitedly and pawed at the door.

Jean pointed to the room.

'You wanna go in? Is that it?' he asked the pup.

The droid barked again and gave a low whine in encouragement.

Jean stood up, giving the door a long searching glance. Who lived here? One of the masked man's aides? The Vigilante himself? Was there some meat jerky in there that the little dog wanted? Or a metal bolt? Jean examined his choices. He deemed it was worth investigating. Jean caught the knob and turned it.

Much to his surprise, the room wasn't locked. The door gave way and swung back with a creak. Krobe barged in, scuttling forward on its excited little feet. It arrived in the middle of a bedroom— a used bedroom, Jean noted as he followed suit. A _very_ neat, orderly room. The lights were on, clothes sat folded on the bed along with an assortment of weapons and cartridges on the desk. There was the trench coat on a hangar and a fedora tucked on a shelf.

Jean watched as Krobe sniffed the floor. It caught the scent again and rushed for the bathroom, barking furiously at the closed door.

And that was when Jean heard it. The ashbrown young man heard a voice he couldn't quite place. A sharp voice that he couldn't connect to any of the familiar faces in Chromium Shark.

'Farlan, why do I hear—' demanded the voice.

The door opened, and Jean found himself face to face with the room's occupant. A stranger who looked just as shocked as him.

Grey eyes widened a little. That slick dark hair. Short stature. Unbending as an ancient, stuck-up old cedar.

No, not a stranger, Jean corrected himself.

But the man in Eren's Polaroid. The erstwhile _missing_ husband.

There was a tense silence as the two men stared at each other.

Even the droid’s barking couldn’t diffuse the tension in the air. Rivaille Levi knelt on the floor and took the dog into his folded arms, running a hand across its metal spine. 'Sshh, Krobe,' he hushed the mongrel. 'I am here,' the man said in a low voice, his dangerous grey eyes never straying from Jean's. 'I am right _here_.'

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sol- Sun (Spanish)


	72. Demon

Chapter-72- Demon

~.~

 

In Ulkridge, a reporter stood against the backdrop of flashing red lights and sirens wailing into the night. For as soon as the task force released them from captivity, Hitch had hobbled over to her vehicle, taken off her stilettoes, squeezed into the rear seat and switched from her party gown to a shirt with a low neckline, a pencil skirt and a grey jacket… while earning appreciative glances from the chauffeurs in the parking lot. She didn’t mind the attention. Thus transformed, she was now interviewing an older petite woman, a soprano still dressed in her corset velvet gown and who was attempting to air herself with a hand fan. When the cameras started rolling, the reporter swept her hand through her wavy flaxen hair; Hitch faced the lens with a smile— a dimpled smile that was bound to raise viewer ratings by twenty points— a smile that she hoped would be dazzling enough for a fast track promotion and subtle enough to go with the gravity of her report.

'Viewers of UN207,' she spoke towards the camdroid that the news station sent in. It was a white drone with a camera mounted on its forehead, and it was clearly not the cutting-edge AI that Hitch insisted on. Hitch's greatest pet peeve was when she asked for resources— resources that had more stealth and brainpower than this bauble head dummy— but was repeatedly turned down by higher ups on citations of _budget_. Hitch sighed. She’d learnt to be a professional and so she decided to make do with what she had. She got on with her story. '—We have here on location, Ms Greta Dessay— renown opera singer, philanthropist and Juggernaut Wingtail activist, giving us an eyewitness account of The Ritz hostage crisis. Ma'am—' Hitch turned to the other woman. 'Thank you for this exclusive tonight. Do tell us in your own words, what it was like in those nerve wracking moments of the lockdown. What was going through your mind?'

Greta Dessay, the soprano, stopped fanning herself and cast a troubled look into the media's eye. She primed herself into a frenzy.

'Oh, I'll tell you what I felt like. My whole life passed before my eyes; it was a nightmare. I didn’t think I’d make it out alive.'

'You were frightened?' prompted Hitch.

'Dearie, who wouldn't be? I received the invitation to a gala dinner and instead—'

Hitch nodded, not really listening. She gestured to the camdroid again, snapping her fingers at it in secret code. The lens zoomed in on Hitch, who seemed to have an affinity for the spotlight. 'Yes, as you can see, it was a traumatic experience for most of the attendees. Moreover, it's been hours since the hostages were rescued. And from what we’re hearing from inside sources, the military police have not yet, I REPEAT, not yet apprehended the perpetrator or any of his accomplices,' Hitch turned to the stout woman again. 'How do you feel about that, Greta? Do you think the police's handling of the crisis has been slipshod? Do you believe that homeland security is no longer a concern for the Titan State? Has the government let us down again?'

The opera singer snivelled into her handkerchief and let out a whimper.

'Like I said, my whole life passed before my eyes. It was horrible, dreadfully horrible—'

The reporter pulled a face, scrunching her nose. 'Um, that wasn't my question,' Hitch managed a weak smile at the camera. 'Viewers should note that Ms Dessay is still recovering from post-traumatic stress,' the flaxen blonde explained to her audience in an undertone.

She turned back to her guest. 'Greta, you were with me at the masquerade party, correct? You heard him speak, didn't you? The man who proclaimed himself as the _'Vigilante'_ ,' Hitch said, finger quoting at the last part. 'Do you have any idea who this man is? What his motive could be? First, we had the bombing at Trost. And now, this attempted takeover of a VIP gathering in Ulkridge. What next, we wonder? Do you think he is making a statement? What is his objective? What do you think of this _Vigilante_?'

Greta shook her head, blinking her eyes and giving a visible shudder.

'Oh no. Never heard of him. But the man sounded like a brute. A ruthless brute, positively. I mean, look at poor Abel. He got taken away. Abel's an old friend of mine, y'know,’ she explained, fanning herself harder and digressing from the topic. ‘— we go far back. There was a time when Abel wanted to court me, but I turned him down. It’s such a curse to be beautiful and gifted. Comes with the occupation. There were always a few chasing my skirt, if you know what I mean—'

'Right, right,' Hitch nodded, smiling gingerly before turning away from her guest. 'Thank you for speaking to us, Ms Dessay. I'm afraid we're, um, running out of air time.' Hitch looked to the camera, letting it zoom in on her face again.

'And there you have it, folks. Live from ground zero, this is Hitch of UN207, bringing you the latest updates. Stay tuned as we rally in more people and try to find out who exactly… this 'Vigilante' is.'

 

 

 

 

In one room of the inn Chromium Shark, Jean Kirstein had just discovered the answer to that question. Stunned, he sat down on the bed and clasped his hands together, trying to steady himself and think clearly. He gave the other man a sidelong glance, trying to match the face with the Polaroid picture in his memory. He remembered Eren's caption, those words scribbled with a black marker.

_Rivaille's face when he smiles._

That's right.

Rivaille's face.

When _the goddam_ _motherfucker_ smiles.

Yes. There was no question about it. Same guy. Levi. The name he’d heard so many times, and here was the man standing in flesh and blood. Not dead. Not smiling either. He was pale, his head and foot wrapped in bandages, but the man was definitely… _alive_. It didn't take long to put the jigsaw pieces together. Especially when he noticed the arsenal on the table and the trench coat on the wardrobe hangar.

'Wow,' Jean uttered slowly. 'Just when I thought you couldn't sink any _lower_. Bravo, man, you sure as hell proved me wrong.'

The older man, the more composed of the two, stared into the distance mutely. His one hand covered Krobe's snout to keep it from barking and from interrupting the conversation. A conversation that Levi should have seen coming. True, he’d anticipated the mask to come undone and for someone to discover the truth. Though, this guy Jean Kirstein would have been the last one in Levi's list. Noticing the open door, he walked over to it, his steps sounding heavy in the lead silence. He shut the door and corrected the mistake… a mistake that ought not to have happened in the first place.

Jean's gaze was still fixed on him, hazel eyes unblinking and focused on Levi alone.

'So, tell me...' Jean said. 'Do you get a _kick_ out of this?'

It was at this juncture that Levi allowed a half smile to slip him.

'Out of _what_?' he asked, feigning innocence.

On hindsight, it had been a tactless remark. And Levi began to understand why this earthborn rich kid always got on his nerves. Sure, Kirstein was taller than him, more charming between the two of them, presumably more honest. But that wasn't it. The real reason why Levi had never liked Jean Kirstein was because of all the things this kid and Eren had in common. Those memories of a world Levi had never been to, their shared passion for life, honesty and… of course, that undulated raw anger.

Because as soon as the opening gambit left Levi's mouth, Jean shot out of his seat, one veined arm rising. Fingers twisted into a fist gunning for Levi’s face. The morose man stood in his place, his hand remained wrapped around Krobe who gave a warning bark in Jean's direction.

 _Grrr,_ said the rottweiler pup, baring its teeth.

Jean stopped. Not for Krobe, not for the guy either. He stopped because he remembered Eren...because honestly, though he relished the idea of planting a fist into the face of the smug bastard, this was still the same guy Eren had spent an eternity searching for.

His resolve to not be provoked did have its limits especially when he saw the older man roll his eyes and give a scoff in condescension. Levi ducked out from under him, slithering out like a lizard, and sauntered over to the desk. His face betraying neither his thoughts nor his emotions, the man placed his droid pet on the table. He opened the flap on Krobe’s back and checked the circuitry inside.

As if Jean wasn't even there.

'Hey pal,' said the ashbrown. 'This conversation isn't over yet!'

Levi shook his head, looking calm and unruffled. 'Oh no, you're not interested in a conversation. What you're looking for... is a fight,' Levi muttered, checking the wires inside Krobe's skull. He shifted through them, pulling scraps and charred bits from inside. Krobe gave a low whine at the hand tinkering inside its head. Levi examined it and with a slow nod, he deemed the machine to be well and restored; he closed the flap. Patting Krobe's head, he turned to look at Jean, gracing the younger man with a simpering curt smile. 'And unfortunately for you, Kirstein, I don't have time to swap punches with a spoiled child. I fight real wars… not mock battles in a sandbox.'

Jean gave a low growl.

'Spoiled?' he echoed in displeasure. 'You talk big for your size, Mr Vigilante.'

There was a pause, and Levi felt a bitter taste in his mouth. He curled his fingers and uncurled them again.

The ashbrown took a deep breath in, running a jerky hand through his hair.

'Does Eren know?' Jean demanded.

Levi weighed his words in the silence.

'No,' he admitted at long last.

'Why?'

'Because what he doesn't know won't hurt him.'

Jean pressed a hand over his eyes, finding his temper flaring again. 'Hurt?' he repeated in disbelief. ‘Jesus Christ, you’re a dick. Do you even know what hurt feels like, man? Hurt is chasing after someone only to see him trash your photograph. To be lied to over and over again. Hurt is to keep watching the one you love cry bucket load of tears and to live with the fact that you can’t do anything about it. Do you have any idea what Eren's been through? What you’ve put him through, you shmuck?'

'Of course, I do,' Levi cut in, ignoring the volley of insults directed at him. He could feel Krobe's snout nudging the underside of his palm, sniffing at his familiar scent.

The ashbrown wasn’t winding down.

'Did you enjoy the show then?' taunted Jean. 'It beats me why Eren is still hung up on a patronising, conceited bastard like you.'

Levi forced a smile.

'At least, we have something in common.'

Jean scowled, and there was a dangerous flare in those hazel eyes.

‘Don’t lump me with the likes of you,’ Jean hissed.

Levi let his attention revert to the table, his demeanour silent and observant as always. It was a façade as easy to put on as the Rorschach mask. He began arranging the desk, shifting the weights, the guns, stocks and the cartridges to garner some control and order in this situation. There was his compulsion again. The need to clean and fix. The dire need for order when everything else was careening out of control.

'You don't like me, I get it,' he said aloud. 'Well, it can be fixed. I'll send you brats back. So, don't worry. I'll be out of your hair soon enough.'

Jean stared at him, a crease forming in his forehead.

'Send us back? You want to break Eren’s heart again?’ he asked. Jean scowled. ‘You know what? Go ahead and do that,' the younger man said, pulling the towel down from his neck fiercely. 'Go ahead and kick him out again. Because I'll be there to pick up the pieces just like every other _fucking_ time.'

Levi looked at him sharp.

'You talk big, soldier. But you’re just a chickhead. You don’t have a clue what’s going on,' he said.

Jean crossed his arms and made a noise in his throat.

'Oh yeah? At least, I know my friends. Eren… I've grown up with him. We've known each other for years and I have never seen the guy cry. Not when bullies were picking on him. Not when he is doing utter crap at ice hockey. Not even when he was black and blue from boxing practice. He didn't ever cry, Vigilante, not until _you_ kicked him out. I hope you realise that.'

Levi's lips pressed into a thin line. He turned and looked at Jean, studying him with that face of indifference.

'You Earthborns are the same, huh? Sentimental shits, aren't you all? Always wearing your emotions on your sleeves.'

'Damn right,' snapped Jean, his voice raised. 'And we're proud of it. Get that into your head.'

Levi said nothing.

'Know what?' Jean smirked, taking advantage of his companion’s silence. 'I'll make it even easier for you. I'll steal him. I'll steal Eren right before your very eyes. Hold on to that pokerface, Vigilante, because you're gonna need it soon,’ he scorned.

Jean shot him a look of loathing and walked over to the door, yanking it open. He paused for the smallest of moments.

'You know, man… you really should have stayed dead. You'd have saved everyone a whole lot of trouble.'

Having said that, Jean stormed out and to his surprise, he found Armin standing outside. The blond was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his cagoule jacket, and his expression furrowed in thought. The boy pursed his lips and gave Jean a thin sliver of a smile.

'You heard everything?' Jean asked him.

Armin nodded.

'You were practically yelling. Kinda hard not to.'

Jean folded his hands behind his head and sighed.

'You knew, didn't you, shorty?'

The boy shrugged and gave a slow nod.

'I won't lie. I… had my suspicions.'

Jean shook his head, reserving his judgment. He turned to look at the inn’s corridor, especially at the closed door of their shared room.

'Armin.'

'Yeah?' the boy asked, looking up at him.

'Clear the scoreboard. We're starting from a clean slate.'

Armin gawked at him.

'You can't be serious.'

‘I’m dead serious,’ the ashbrown huffed and began walking away.

'Hey, wait, Jean,' Armin called after him. 'Where the hell are you going?'

'Somewhere. Anywhere. Any place on this goddam planet. I need to cool my head.'

 

 

 

 

 

'Uh, hello?' Armin greeted politely as he stuck his head into the room. It was a spacious bedroom, and for a moment, he was struck speechless by the ambience inside. It was the same aura he had encountered in Eren's house, the nagging feeling that he was disturbing the sanctity of an Egyptian tomb. He found a man by the desk, a man whose hands were moving feverishly over the table as he sorted out his dangerous possessions. Guns were safety-locked, emptied and thrown into a black duffel bag. Vials of questionable substances were stacked into the drawers. And even when the table was clean, the man wasn't finished. It became increasingly apparent to Armin that the man was still trying to find something to… sort.

A stickler for neatness and order, he remembered Eren telling him.

Armin frowned.

_Christ, Eren. It's more like your husband has a bad case of OCD._

The blond cleared his throat, trying to draw the man's attention.

'So… you are Levi, huh?' he ventured to ask. ‘Hello, I guess?’

Hands stilled, and the man turned, gracing the blond with an inscrutable look.

Armin cleared his throat again, this time out of nervousness.

'What happened to your mask, if you don't mind me asking?'

'It's in the wash.'

The simplicity of that answer surprised the saint. Armin stifled the urge to smile. He guessed even Spiderman needed to do laundry occasionally.

'What do you want, Squeaky?' the man asked, his ire evident in his tone.

Yep. The words of the Vigilante but not his voice. So, this was the man behind the inkblot face, Armin surmised. The guy his best friend had hitched himself to.

'I have a name, y'know,' the boy griped from the door, wondering if he should even enter the room. 'Armin Arlert. That’s my good name.'

The Vigilante, _nay,_ Levi rolled his eyes.

'You have a name, but you don't have a point, kid. You have something to preach to me... like your friend?'

'Oh no,  I’ve got nothing to preach, Vigi- uh, Levi… sir,' Armin pandered in his reply and chewed his lip.

What the hell! Why did he address Eren's husband as 'sir'? The man wasn't his goddam professor, was he?

Was it the formidable aura? Or the Step-Out-Of-Line-And-I'll-Skin-You-Alive glare?

'I think Jean spoke enough for the both of us,' Armin admitted, scratching his nose nervously and stopped himself from appending the statement with another ‘sir’.

The man with the dark hair turned and gave him the once over.

'Heh,' he said. 'What's _your_ plan? Going to run off and squeal to your friend?'

Armin bit the side of his cheek as if contemplating on the idea.

'I... might?' he opined.

His bravado didn't last long. Levi left the desk, walked over to him and gave Armin a grueling, long stare.

'You won't do that,' the older man said.

'Huh? Why?' Armin asked suspiciously. 'Why won’t I do that?'

The blond wished he hadn't asked the stupid question.

The Vigilante smirked and hovered close enough to breathe on him. 'Because if you speak one word to Eren about this, squeaky, I assure you it would be the last thing you ever say. You don’t want me to sew your mouth shut with a wire, do you?'

_Wire._

Yikes!

Armin's eyes widened, and he gulped at the horrid image forming in his head.

The boy took a small step back for safety.

'Whoa. Y-You can't threaten me. I have faced tougher bullies than you, dude. Taller ones too,' he added with an afterthought.

The older man did not find his comeback daunting enough.

'Oh, but I’m not a bully, kid. I am the _devil._  And you don't ever mess with a demon. You get me?'

There was a silent anger in those slanted grey eyes, an anger not to be argued with. Armin took another step back and managed a placating smile.

'Okay, on second thoughts. I-I'm gonna just go,' he looked over the man's shoulder and called out to the pet dog. 'Krobe! Here, boy! Let's take you back to Eren!'

The dog leaped off the desk and shuffled over to them. It paused, turning to its master and fixing him with an ardent gaze, the droid pup let out a low whine in melancholy. Levi crouched and gave the dog a pat over its head, his hand lingering more than usual.

'Go,' he said to the dog. 'Listen to the kid. Go to Eren... You don't know me, alright, metal head?'

The dog barked and wagged its tail in answer, looking up at him dolefully.

The raven-haired man frowned.

'No… I'm not Levi. Be a good boy, dopey. Go back to Eren. He needs you.'

Krobe gave one last sorrowful look towards Levi before shuffling back to Armin and let the blond pick it back up in his arms.

 _Okay, I'm good now. Let's go, earthling_ , it seemed to tell him.

 

 

 

 

 

Utgard.

Or Utgaroar, as it used to be known in the old times.

The home of the giants. The home of the demons. It was an apt name for a high-altitude city settled in the valley between three cryovolcanoes. In the world of Titan, Utgard was the military capital. While strategy and key decisions were formulated behind closed doors of the political high city Stonehess— it was here in the blinding night city of Utgard where the real contingent of the Titan Army was active.

Or so Lawrence told her as he led Annie through revolving doors, passageways and exit corridors, the ends of his coat whistling as they walked. They didn't stop to take a breather, nor to admire the scenery through the windows.

Annie took a bite of her bagel and sipped on a steaming beverage as they arrived in an open court. Lawrence had led her into a maze, alright. D. E. Lawrence had brought her to Titan's vaulted prison. She'd been briefed and debriefed on the protocol before being allowed entrance.

'You bring me to the most romantic of places, Lawrence. Just saying,' the girl murmured with a surreptitious smile.

The toad faced man turned to throw her a dirty look.

'You sure you have the time to be mouthing off, Cadet Leonhart,' Lawrence remarked icily.

Annie stopped nibbling on her food and brought the bagel down, giving Lawrence a square look. It was the Titan's way of reminding her of her place and also… his snippy way of reminding her that they were on a very tight schedule.

'Keep talking dirty to me, Lawrie. You know I can't resist you,' the blonde woman joked; her voice was teasing but her Viking face remained cold and mirthless.

Lawrence didn't find her funny at all and folding his arms, he strutted forward. They took an elevator down, descending levels into the ground. When the doors finally opened, they entered a low-lit hallway. Annie chewed on her bottom lip as she cast a disparate glance at the cells they passed. People in green overalls were confined to the containment cells, one person to each. Every man and woman had a barcode stamped on their arm. The longer the barcode, the more grievous was the crime that the prisoner had been incarcerated for. That was how the justice system worked in this alien land.

At long last, they arrived at a closed room with the blinds pulled over the glass.

'So, where are we?' asked Annie. 'Is this the new assignment?'

Lawrence flicked a switch and the blinds rolled up, illuminating the view inside.

It was a white walled room. There was a desk in the middle and a bearded, emaciated man sat slunk over in the chair. Bony fingers tried to reach for the glass of water and failed.

The man looked up, almost as if he could feel them watching.

'Eren,' he mumbled in a weak voice before his head slumped into the fold of his arms.

Annie watched the prisoner before turning to Lawrence.

'What did you do to him?' she asked.

'Oh, don't worry yourself, girlie. He’ll live. We just brought him teetering close to breaking point.'

 

 

 

 

Eren was dreaming again.

One moment he was standing on the shore of a lake, his vision clouded by mist, his bare feet lodged between leaves of grass. The next moment he heard someone call his name. Someone who sounded awfully like his dad. He didn't pause to ask himself how. Or why he'd remember his father's voice after all these years. When the man had clearly disowned him and deserted his mother.

Jaeger-Lyndon centre, he remembered the plaque.

Jaeger.

Crest-fallen, Eren walked to the edge of the lake and walked the circle. He walked long and far and then risked a glance at those murky waters. He caught his reflection, looking harried and troubled by the voices in his head. There was that smoky white mist which hung to the surface, calming to his nerves but hiding things. Eren sank to his knees. He reached out to sieve through the still water and watched the ripples that propagated from the tips of his fingers.

That was when something happened.

He caught sight of a pale hand in the depths. Pale and wreath like. It pierced the surface and grabbed his wrist. But this was not the hand of Nimue, Lady of the Lake. The face he looked at was of a Brazilian, the same one from Titan's ghost laboratory and the man held a death grip on him. His head and torso rose, sitting up with a splash, a vein in the man’s neck throbbing.

Eren shrunk back but the naked man moved with him, remaining latched on to Eren’s wrist. The stranger, pale and wrinkled from his mausoleum in the water, looked at Eren with those dead fish eyes of his and tugged at his wrist.

Eren clenched his teeth, resisting.

'Join us,' a disembodied cold voice spoke, sending shivers down his spine.

'N-No,' Eren stuttered.

'Come, join us,' the voice insisted.

'Let me go!'

'Your father did this to us. It shall be your penance.'

Eren stilled and felt his heart hammering in his chest. The lapse of effort on Eren’s side was all that the ghost needed to reel him in. They sank. The water swallowed them whole, and Eren would have drowned in this nightmare if not for a gloved hand that caught his shoulder. It grabbed him and steered him away from those harrowing depths.

Eren breathed hard, legs kicking.

He was pulled out of the lake, pulled back to life.

The landscape dissolved, the wreath of the Brazilian disappeared, and Eren discovered himself held in the enclosure of someone's arms. There was the calming rhythm of a heart against his ears.

'Eren,' called the voice.

Not the Vigilante's.

But Levi's.

He opened his eyes and found a familiar face bearing down on him. Krobe licked his cheek and gave a sharp bark in greeting. The peacekeeper sat up— looking haunted and shell-shocked from his dreams. No, not a dream. But a nightmare. A nerve rattling nightmare. He turned from the droid in his lap to Armin. And then back to the dog.

Wait.

Krobe?

'No way… ' he breathed in disbelief, his terrors slowly overcome by joy. ‘No effing way! Krobe?’

The Rottweiler pup gave a yip in excitement and wagged its tongue at him. Eren couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. He took Krobe into his fold, wrapping his arms around it, giving the machine an almost bone crushing hug. He bit back a teary smile.

'Oh man, it’s you... It’s really you. I’ve missed you like hell. How did—'

The droid barked and licked his cheek again, its tongue feeling cold on his hot, sweaty skin.

Eren looked up at Armin in amazement. But his bestie didn’t share any of his enthusiasm. Armin looked sour as if he'd just taken a bite out of a lemon.

'What’s wrong, Armin?' Eren asked.

Armin scowled.

'Eren, I hate to crash your reunion party… but we  _really_  need to talk about your choices in men.'

A pause.

'Huh?'

 

 

_If you had let me wait_

_I had grown from listlessness into peace-_

_If you had let me rest with the dead,_

_I had forgot you_

_And the past._

Eurydice, H.D

 

 

* * *

 


	73. Tangerine

 

Chapter-73- Tangerine

~.~

 

When Eren blinked his eyes open to a sleepy morning, the twenty-hour clock told him it was nine. He made a sound of discontent, yanked the covers up to his nose, and went back to sleep. The next time he roused himself enough to look at the clock again, it was ten-twenty, and the grey morning had turned into a grey afternoon. But this time, Krobe was trying to snuggle under his covers. And there were voices. Hundreds of voices.

It was like Training Corps all over again— this feeling of waking up to chatter, whistles and hoots. Why were people talking? Why were they cheering in the first place? And why was there a baby wailing amidst all this? He looked about but there was no sign of Armin, Marco or Jean to supply him with answers. Eren threw away the covers in his sleepy stupor, rolled off the bed, pulled on his sneakers in his half-dazed state and slipped out of the room. Dressed in his rumpled shirt and slacks, he emerged out into the corridor with Krobe tagging along at his heels. Was it just him or was the pup more submissive than before?

Not that he was going to complain.

Because he was still reeling under the euphoria of having Krobe back.

Eren smiled at the dog, at its antics and crouched to give its ears the old-fashioned tweak. The dog didn't react to the gesture and went still, blinking at something ahead.

'What's wrong?'

When Eren Jaeger turned towards the stairwell, his jaw dropped.

The corridor was swarming with Mafiosi. There was a long line of people, a line which seemed to trickle from the front door of Chromium Shark, snaking all the way up the staircase and finally ending at Isabel's room, where a baby was to be found crying relentlessly.

He found it alright.

Eren had found the source to all the chatter and hooting.

Boisterous laughter filled the air and the brunet looked at the visitors in confusion. He straightened up and treading light between the hulks, the young man squeezed his way through the crowd. As he climbed down the steps, the shady looking thugs gave him the once-over, even shooting him the evil eye, and looked down their noses at him. Deeming him to be just a small fry, they returned their attention to their old friends, peeps and bonhomies and began talking about that one fellow who couldn't make it.

'What happened to Seuss?' thug number one asked.

'Prison,' replied thug number two.

 _'Che peccato._ How did the imbecile end up getting fished? What did he do this time? Crystal meth?'

'No, the Captain weeded that out, remember? Kid had a beef with the border patrol at Sina. Looks like he was carrying some contraband from Shigan. He’s an idiot, alright.'

'Border patrol? No one gets raked for a lousy reason like that. Fella could never keep outta trouble, could he? Hope he doesn’t become some gump’s bitch in prison!'

Eren squeezed his way through the last of the Mafiosi but even the hallway wasn't spared, where a giant crowd had gathered around the telescreen. Eren could hear Krobe barking at the visitors in vain. Deciding to save Krobe from being mauled and crushed by the tide of people, the peacekeeper gathered the dog up in his arms and made a beeline for the kitchen. The smell of something cooking assaulted him the moment he pushed through the kitchen doors.

And there, he found his missing friends. Marco, Jean and Armin were peeling potatoes, all three donning white bandanas and by the bitter expressions on their faces, they weren't enjoying it. Except Marco. Eren couldn't remember the day he had seen the Titan frown or complain.

'Guys, guys. What the hell... is going on? Who are all these weirdoes?' the brunet blurted out as he put Krobe down. The droid pup shuffled over to Armin and looked up at him eagerly.

Marco smiled in answer.

'Good morning, Eren. And those weirdoes you speak of are Farlan's brigade of rebels. They came to congratulate Isabel and Magnum. Well, _most_ of them.'

'Most of them?' Eren repeated. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

Jean stuck a thumb towards the common hall.

'Some of them—' the ashbrown said, rolling his eyes. '— just wanted to catch the latest episode of 'Desperate Husbands'.'

Eren turned and craning his neck, he looked at the crowd again.

And sure enough, a large group of thugs were gathered around the telescreen, watching it in suspended silence as a dramatic moment unfolded on the show. Eren's eyes roved through the strangers, and he caught sight of a familiar face. Or rather... no face, should he choose to call it. The man with the inkblot mask was standing under the balusters, being addressed to by a band of rebels. But the masked man wasn't looking at them. Instead, his attention was fixed wholly on Eren.

The peacekeeper averted his gaze and walking over to the counter, he picked up a rolled ball of dough and sniffed at it.

'So, what's all this?' he asked.

'Dumplings,' Marco answered, juggling one between his hands. 'It's a custom here in our world that when guests come to greet a newborn, you have to serve them good food in return for their blessings.'

Armin butted into the conversation with a low, menacing growl.

'No offence, Marco Polo, but WE are not Titans. So, please explain to me why WE got roped into this!'

Jean nodded in agreement and kneaded the dough at his own end. 'Armin’s right. I’m feeling tempted to throw some laxatives in here. Would serve them right.'

Marco raised an eyebrow.

'You want to drug an entire army of goons? You sure that's wise, Jean?'

The ashbrown scowled and dropped the idea against his will. 'Alright, alright, I’m not gonna do that. But I'm pretty sure these mobsters just dropped by to freeload.'

Marco let slip a chuckle and nodded.

'You have a fair point. But you know how the saying goes... free food is good food.'

Eren turned to the living room where the crowd had gone awfully quiet again. 

'What's up with that show? Why is everyone hung up on it?'

Marco smiled.

'It's a long running series, Eren.'

'Uh huh,' Eren said, as he took a potato and a peeler in his hand. Throwing the mafiosi another queasy look, he began skinning it. 'What's the story like?'

Marco scratched his chin thoughtfully.

'I wish I could tell you. But I haven’t seen it yet.'

Armin snorted and cast an exasperated glance at Krobe who'd latched on to his pant and was tugging at it playfully. 'Don't worry, Eren,' he said. 'I bet you a million bucks that it's nowhere as thrilling as yours,' his attention shifted to the dog. 'Krobe, _quit_ that,' he admonished. 

Eren gave his best friend an indignant look.

'Hey. What the heck's _that_ supposed to mean?'

'You're such a doofus,' remarked Armin and tossed Krobe a screw to bite on instead.

 

 

 

 

The five hundred dumplings disappeared faster than any of them could say 'No more.' The crowd of rebels left, saluting Farlan and the Captain, vowing their last breaths to the cause (a cause which eluded Armin still) and cheering for 'Sol' as they went (Darn the rugrat for getting all the attention). The young men sat down at the dining table, thoroughly famished and hungry. They waited for Magnum to whip his country special- his cream, pasalleno and mushroom pasta. Isabel was still nursing the baby upstairs. The infant's cries had withered down to a whimper and peace reigned at long last in Chromium Shark. Meanwhile, Farlan and Hunter were whisked away by their shady comrades for drinks at a local joint.

The peace was short lived. Because when dinner was laid out over the table, a wail pierced the silence of the inn.

' _Amante_!' Izzie bellowed from upstairs. 'Help _me_!'

Magnum cast a pained glance at the ceiling. He sighed and dabbed a towel across his forehead.

'Does anyone-uh-want to exchange places with me? Please?' he asked. 'Pretty... _please_?' the man with the dreadlocks implored them.

Jean smirked as he looked up at the man. 'Dude, you're all on your own. And trust me, it gets even better when she learns how to walk.'

Magnum groaned at the reminder.

 _'AMANTE_!' the voice carried from above.

Sweeping the towel over his shoulder, Magnum made to leave hurriedly towards Isabel's voice.

Which left the young men and the Vigilante all alone.

Wow. Awkward, Armin thought to himself. _Totally_ awkward.

The blond observed the company in silence. The Vigilante sat at the end of the dining table, watchful and quiet as the visitors tackled their pasta. What was he thinking, Armin wondered. What new scheme of torture was he plotting in his head?

Marco smiled effervescently, a vain attempt at breaking the tension in the air. 'Cloudy day, huh?' the freckled man observed, looking out the window.

No one said a word. The weather was the last thing everyone wanted to talk about. Marco's smile dampened just a little, but he persisted. He cleared his throat and turned to the Masked Vigilante.

'So, Captain...' the freckled young man trailed, reaching for the sauce. 'Magnum was saying we are having a small party tomorrow. Is that true?'

His chin propped on one hand, the Vigilante nodded curtly but said nothing more. Marco looked between his friends and the masked man, wondering if there was some sort of a feud going on that he didn't know about.

Jean frowned at his own end.

He ate his pasta with difficulty, the fork slipping from his fingers twice.

Eren took a sip of water, watching Jean's struggle over the rim of his glass.

'What's wrong with your hand?'

Jean looked up at him in surprise but at Eren's concerned expression, he gave a shrug.

'Nothing.'

'Doesn't look like nothing to me, Kirstein.'

Jean sighed.

'It's nothing, Eren. I’ve been having muscle spasms lately. Just twitches... no biggie.'

Eren took another sip of water, watching his friend's hand carefully.

'Is it because of the burns from before?'

'Burns?' Marco asked beside them.

Armin snorted into his pasta. 'Oh, I didn't tell you, Marco? Basically... Jean set fire to Eren's home in his valiant attempt to save us from evil robots sent in by the evil government.'

The blond yelped when he received a kick from Jean under the table.

'Hey, my _valiant_ attempt did save your ass, cupcake,' Jean defended.

'You could have done it without calling in the fire department, yeah.'

Jean was about to argue but he watched Eren set down the glass hastily. The brunet reached out for Jean's left hand, cutting short all of Jean's protests and arguments. The peacekeeper held Jean's hand gingerly, studying it in silence. Eyebrows drawn in a furrow, Eren traced the long fingers, cracking along knuckles, and without a warning, he began pressing hard along the ridges of the palm.

Jean winced when he felt a sharp, shooting pain.

'Ouch! Watch it!'

Eren looked up and smirked.

'Relax, cry-baby. I’m trying to help you.'

Jean scowled at the fellow PeaceCorp.

'No, you're just trying to get back at me for something, aren't you? You’re settling an old grudge for all I know.'

Eren smiled at his conspiracy theory.

'Trust me,' the boy said. 'It will feel better. It's a cool down technique Coach Finlay taught me.'

'Finlay? Your Leprechaun boxing coach?'

'Yep. The one and _only.'_

The brunet balled Jean's fingers into a fist, kneading the hand softly. 'It's supposed to relax you. He used to do this for me after every game.'

Jean sat back in his chair and cocked up an eyebrow.

'After _every_ game, Jaeger? You sure he wasn't trying to cop a feel? Maybe, he had the hots for you or somethin’.'

Eren looked up sharp and shot Jean a dirty look.

'You just have to go and ruin my good memories, don't you, horseface?'

Jean watched on in amusement as Eren massaged his wrist. He observed the crown of Eren's brown head, his heart feeling heavy all of a sudden. What was it about this guy? Despite all the apathy and the setbacks, Eren always bounced back. How did he pick himself up? In spite of all the name calling and pranks over the years, he'd always admired Eren's grit, his determination. Even though the idiot was always sleeping in class and never played by the rules in the book.

'Feeling better?' Eren asked as his fingers returned to knead Jean's palm.

Jean nodded softly. He admitted that these ministrations did feel good. Eren's hand was like the rest of him. Hardened in places and tender in others. Jean was grateful for this attention, sparse though it was. But before he could say it aloud, Jean felt a sharp kick from under the table and yelped. He looked across at Armin, the instigator of said kick.

'What?' he mouthed, scowling at the blond.

'You have a deathwish? You're overdoing it,' Armin mimed, blue eyes flicking nervously around the table.

'What are you talking about—?' Jean mouthed back.

Armin lifted a hand and pointed towards the end of the table.

Jean remained puzzled until he realised what Armin was pointing at. And sure enough, he found the Vigilante's face turned towards them. Or rather, turned towards Eren's treatment of his hand. The inkblot face gave nothing away, but Jean was willing to bet that the pokerface was not happy about this camaraderie between them. Not one bit.  

Now, _this_ was interesting, he realised smugly. And Jean hadn't even started the contest yet.

'Hey Eren,' Jean called out.

'Hm?'

'You know where else I’m hurting?'

The peacekeeper regarded him suspiciously. He'd detected the lighter vein in Jean's voice and didn't have a fair boding of what the man was about to ask.

'Over here,' said Jean, and the ashbrown tapped his lips, failing to keep the insidious grin off them.

Eren pulled back, returning Jean's hand to the table and frowned.

'Coach Finlay taught me a lot of _other_ stuff too, horseface,' he warned.

Jean smiled.

'It was a joke,' he admitted.

'I don't trust your jokes, you prat.'

Jean smirked, but the arrogance melted away, replaced by a softer, kinder expression of fondness. He looked at Eren, linked an arm around his partner's neck and ruffled his hair.

'What the hell was that for?' Eren grouched.

'Nothing,' Jean admitted, looking at the Vigilante and relishing in the fact those shoulders looked a lot tenser than before.

 

 

 

 

The water rig stood silent in moratorium, the pump being given its two hours of scheduled rest. The peacekeeper looked up at the overcast sky and frowned at it. There was a gentle breeze which billowed through the desert community, roofs groaning and windows rattling against this formless visitor. It was three pm and it was already evening here in Titan.

Eren looked at the tangerine in his hand and turned to the droid pup sitting on its hind legs and looking at him expectantly. Smiling at its eagerness, the young man drew his arm back and unfurling his fingers, he let the tangerine fly. He watched it sail across the yard and Krobe gave a fitful chase after it. The dog caught the orange midair, and gambolled back to him like a good retriever. Eren grinned and as a reward, he knelt and scratched it behind the ears.

'Good boy. Want to go a few more rounds, buddy?'

Krobe didn't refuse nor did it get tired.

They kept at the game with Eren trying to raise the bar each time. Even when the evening grew darker, Krobe's smart sensors never lost sight of the makeshift ball.

Eren tossed the tangerine into the yard again (the fruit now, looking like a squeamish chewed out toy). But Krobe was spared the effort of chasing after it. The ball had hit a metal post of the rig and went rolling to the foot of the backdoor. Eren watched as someone emerged into the inn’s backyard and picked it up.

The Vigilante held the orange fruit in his hands, the inkblot face studying it in the still silence.

Krobe, surprisingly, didn't go after it. The dog resolved to stay in its place and scratched its ear with a leg.

Eren looked on as the Vigilante walked over to the Rottweiler pup and presented the tangerine to it. The droid looked up at him in confusion before accepting the fruit and proceeded to ravage it with all the love in its metal heart.

Eren sighed.

'Great, there goes my ball,' he said, and it came out sounding weirder than inside his head.

The Vigilante turned to him but said nothing.

Eren averted his eyes again, wondering why he couldn't meet the man's shrouded eyes like before. What had changed? What had brought on this nervous tension between them? That kiss in the interstellar tunnel? The fact that he was just a nobody? Or... that Levi was standing mere feet from him and not willing to tell Eren who he was?

Right. There were a multitude of reasons, and Eren didn't know where to start from. Or if dialogue was even the way to go about it. Eren sighed and folding his arms, he looked at his sneakers.

The man in the trench coat stood up.

Eren noticed him reaching into his pocket. He watched the masked man draw something out and the Vigilante tossed it to Eren without a word. The peacekeeper caught the object in surprise.

He stared at it.

A ball.

And not just any ball.

If he wasn't mistaken, there was the signature of the legend Joe DiMaggio running across the circumference.

'Holy shit. Is this an autograph by—'

He caught the Vigilante looking at him and Eren's excited outburst deflated like a punctured tire. 'Uh, where did you get this?'

The man finally spoke, his voice dull and sporting indifference.

'There is a shop here which sells junk and trinkets from your world.'

'Seriously? People buy stuff like this?'

There was a chuckle in answer.

'Some... do. Not all.'

Eren stared at the man before looking at the ball in his hand quietly.

The Vigilante stood up and raised a gloved hand, motioning for Eren to throw it.

Eren frowned. 'Whoa, whoa, you don't toss around a baseball signed by DiMaggio. That's atrocious. He was a baseball legend. You put something like this in a glass case and admire it forever.'

'Tch,' was the masked man's eloquent reply to the argument. 'THROW IT,' came the order.

Eren raised an eyebrow.

'You want to play catch?’ he looked around, confounded. ‘Like here? _Seriously?'_

The Vigilante looked long at him before nodding in answer.

Eren didn’t know what to make of it. But he nodded and drew his arm back.

'Okay, Captain,' he said, and there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. 'But I'm not gonna go easy on you.'

'Is that so?' chortled the voice behind the mask.

'That’s right.'

'Come at me then,' challenged the man in the trench coat.

Readying his serve, Eren let the ball fly.

Armin who’d watched this exchange from the window, nudged the friend standing beside him.

'What?' Jean asked petulantly.

'I don't know, man. It takes a singed hand to get Eren to notice you. All that guy needs is a baseball. I'm just saying.'

Jean glowered at the boy standing next to him.

'Armin.'

'Yeah?'

'Shut up.'

 

 

 

 

 

The breeze turned into a dust storm. The game was cut short when Krobe, being the little interloper that it was, managed to intercept the ball and wreck vengeance upon it. If Eren had entertained hopes of taking DiMaggio's baseball back to his world, auctioning it to Sotheby's and retiring as an early millionaire, those hopes sank when he saw the dog tear into it with its razor sharp teeth.

'Krobe, no... fuck no—' he said.

But the metallic mutt had all its attention glued to ripping the rubber to shreds.

The Vigilante looked at Eren, the man's mask unreadable as always.

'I guess this means... game over, huh?' Eren said, rubbing the back of his neck. He shouldn’t be feeling disappointed, but he was. There was an awkward silence, and the two stared at each other, waiting and biding for the other to speak.

The masked man stood up wordlessly and turned to leave. When he was almost through to the mesh door, Eren knew this was his last chance and so he spoke up.

'Captain,' called the peacekeeper, hesitation lingering in his tone.

The masked man paused and looked at Eren over his shoulder.

'What?' he asked.

'Thanks for the game,' said Eren, looking at him fervently.

The Vigilante went still and stayed quiet for a long moment.

'You don't have to thank me.'

Eren hooked his thumbs around his belt loops and smiled.

'No, I do. The thing is... we spend so much time playing dodge ball, sir. It was good to play catch with you… for once.'

The masked man was quiet before he gave a curt nod and left through the back door.

Jean and Armin watched the man emerge from the backyard. The Vigilante paused, his face turning from the brunet outside to Jean. He closed the door and turning to the Earthborns, he lifted his gloved hand, raising an index finger. And having shown them the renewed score, the masked man disappeared into the corridor, leaving the two boys to muse over what he just did.

Armin turned to Jean and nudged his elbow.

'No offense, dude... but I think he's onto us.'

Jean ignored the gibe.

The saint tried to be supportive and imparted some more of his wisdom.

'Hey, if it's any consolation, at least he didn't give you the middle finger.'

'Armin?'

'Yeah?'

'So not helping right now, shorty.'

 

 

 

 

Lawrence placed a stack of papers on the desk and slid it before the bearded captive. The man in the chair flinched and looked at the sheets with a blank stare.

'What is... this?' he croaked.

'Sudoku,' said the toad faced officer. 'Thought you'd be getting bored, Jaeger. Since you like breaking codes and are so obscenely attached to that other world, I figured you'd like sudoku.'

Lawrence leaned over the table with a coquettish smile. 'Aren't you going to thank me, Grey Baron?'

Grisha Jaeger could barely keep his eyes open behind his fringe of dark hair. He turned his head and cast a curious glance at the woman standing by the door.

'And who are you, young lady? My hostess... or my gaoler? Rather be your guest, then, madam: To be your prisoner should import offending.'

Annie looked at him quizzically, wondering why the man was spouting gibberish.

'I don't get what you said,' she told him.

Grisha Jaeger smiled.

Annie felt strange, felt like ice pouring down her back as his eyes held her motionless.

'It's from Shakespeare. A Winter's Tale.'

Lawrence smirked and sat back in his chair. 'Ah, yes. You've had a lot of time to indulge yourself, haven't you, Mr Scientist? Too bad you're not leaving these walls any time soon. It's going to be a long winter for you in here.'

Grisha remained silent and threw the other man a look of disdain.

Lawrence flicked a speck of dirt from his sleeve, growing restless. 'Don't count on your son to rescue you either. He will be in the State's custody soon enough. If you don’t start talking now, I’m sure you will squeal everything when we have your son gutted on this table.'

'You underestimate my son.'

'Oh, we underestimated _you,_ but not him,' Lawrence said. 'How long do you think he can keep running? He didn't inherit that massive brain of yours, Grey Baron. He’s alone, helpless, and we've already received tip offs on where he is hiding. It's just a matter of time.'

Grisha smirked. When he spoke, his voice was formal and correct.

'You're wrong, officer. I can assure you one thing… my son’s not alone.'

 

 

 

 

The breezy evening turned into a full-fledged dust storm. Eren was returning to his room with Krobe following at his heels when he heard the knock on the front door. Before he could go answer it, Isabel emerged from her room, carrying the baby in her arms.

The visitor rapped on the door again, louder this time.

Isabel dandled the child in her arms and cast a frustrated glance at the inn’s entrance.

'Gah!’she exclaimed. ‘Who is it now? I just put Sol to sleep. They better have a good reason—’ she caught sight of the peacekeeper and beckoned him forward. ‘Eren, hold her!'

Eren froze in his steps and shook his head. 'No, that's not a good idea, Izzie—'

But before Eren could get another word out, the innkeeper put the infant in Eren's custody and stormed down the corridor, muttering curses under her breath.

Eren looked after her in disbelief.

'Whoa, whoa, Izzie! I can't take care of a—'

Isabel's voice drifted to him as she climbed downstairs.

'It isn't rocket science, _guapo_! Deal with it!'

Deal with it?

How exactly was he supposed to deal with _babies_?

With Krobe keeping watch, the peacekeeper looked at the child in his arms.

And there she was. His arch nemesis. His sworn enemy.

'Great. Now I’m stuck with you,' he whispered to the sleeping infant. He leaned in for a closer inspection and saw Isabel’s daughter for the first time. The girl did look like Izzie... if he tilted his head by forty-five degrees and squinted at her. Yeah. There was Izzie's nose and her lips. But the eyebrows were Magnum's, he was certain.

Cute, he remembered the Vigilante saying.

'Heh,' said Eren, breaking into a gloomy smile. 'What's so _cute_ about you?'

Eren poked the baby's cheek.

'Yeah... nothing cute about you,' he said, his gaze turning tender despite himself. ‘You’re just a little pooper. Don’t get ahead of yourself.’

The child, who’d been hitherto suckling on a thumb, squirmed in his arms and wriggled her toes. She turned restless and detecting the loss of her mother’s warmth, she started to sniffle.

'Uh oh,' said Eren. ' _Shit_ , don't wake up, please don't wake up. Yikes, I’m sorry, really sorry. Don’t flip out! You’re not a pooper, I take that back!'

But the damage was already done; it was as if a dam had broken. The child opened her eyes, her mouth trembled, and soon, a high-pitched wail shattered the quiet of Chromium Shark.

He heard Isabel's sigh resonate from the ground floor.

 _'Guapo_ , what did you do?'

'Fuc—' he caught himself short of cursing, mindful of his language. Fantastic, he couldn't even vent his frustration anymore. Eren tried mimicking Isabel by rocking the child in his arms, cradling her close.

'Come on, brat. Go back to sleep. Please? Pretty please?'

The child sobbed, leaving a trail of drool over her blanket. She hiccupped, she rolled in her blanket, and unimpressed by his efforts in pacifying her, Sol cried louder if it were possible.

Eren cast a pained glance at the heavens above.

No matter what he did, Sol turned out to be inconsolable. And the peacekeeper hadn't the faintest idea what was taking Isabel so long. Like Farlan, he didn’t know diddly-squat about babies. Except one thing. Eren looked at the snivelling child in his arms and decided to give it a shot.

'Hush little baby, don't say a word,' he began reciting.

The child paused for the first time, her cries slowing to a whimper, and she considered him with her doleful green eyes.

'... Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird,' said Eren, tapping her nose gently.

Much to his surprise, Sol calmed down. She looked up at him half-dazed, and he wondered what went on in that small head of hers. Eren brought up a hand gingerly, stroking the baby’s hair.

'And if that mocking bird won't sing...' Eren whispered, lulling the baby to sleep.

With a final wriggle of her toes, Sol closed her eyes and quietly drifted to slumber.

'Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring,' the young man finished in the silence of the corridor.

Eren swallowed hard, giving a sigh in relief. There was that prickling in his heart again because for some strange reason, he didn't remember how the rest of the verses went.

At the end of the aisle, a masked man sat with his back to the door. He’d been undoing the bandages to his foot when he heard the voice, Eren’s voice, bringing with it memories of a lost era. While Eren didn't know how the lullaby ended, this man certainly did.

 

 

 

* * *

 


	74. Party

 

Chapter-74- Party

~.~

 

In his head Jean Kirstein kept a list of all the ways in which he didn’t want to be like his dad. But as the years went by and he got older, Jean realised that keeping a list was easy, but not becoming that list was a whole lot tougher. Because no matter how much he guarded against those habits and tendencies of his genes, no matter how much he tried to avoid those familiar traps, the list was still a part of him. He carried it with him wherever he went. And although his father was given a military funeral, a 11-gun salute and buried six feet under, draped under the national flag for his fight against terrorism, the man lived on in this part of Jean.

The part which was drawn to amazons and alpha females despite his best intentions.

Jean was sitting cross-legged in the living room of Chromium Shark, feeling a little humbled in the presence of the newcomer. He was trying to watch the telescreen but apparently, he had no say on what show they ought to be tuned to. He didn't understand why he’d let this newcomer hog the 'TV' when A. she’d spent just one night here and B. because he, Jean Kirstein, should have all TV hogging entitlements, since it was he who had survived living in this dump for weeks. An achievement, yes. After all, Jean had scrubbed the bathroom tiles, delivered a baby the natural way and even put up with sleeping on the hard floor. He didn’t even get the Jacuzzi he'd been promised. So, yes. Jean Kirstein deserved all rights to hog the TV, goddammit.

However, here was the dominatrix treating him as if he were part of the furnishing.

The woman with the straight, dark hair flipped through the channels, the fingers of her other hand air-typing as if she were taking shorthand notes. With a red scarf wrapped around her neck, a bomber jacket hanging over her shoulders, Jean conceded that the girl was a bombshell herself. Her luscious silky hair drew his attention every time she paused and settled on a channel.

Something told Jean that she was a professional. (A professional chef de sous. Or a professional military operative. Perhaps even a professional hit man. She could be anything and no doubt, she'd be _good_ at it.). Something also told Jean that she was _way_ out of his league.

Jean was in trouble, alright. His list of love interests kept growing at an alarming rate— a rate that was inversely proportional to his actual success rate. First, there was a certain Eren Jaeger, who was a certified hot mess and seemed to make an even bigger mess of Jean’s sexuality. Hot tempered, passionate and who liked getting into trouble as much as Jean did, what was there not to like about the boy? Then, there was Historia Reiss; a Titan goddess… whose name Jean put away in his little diary of candidates for fathering his children. Third, there was this new girl— who had the goddess like qualities of Historia and the ferocity of Eren all rolled into one package. And then, there was the freckled—

He caught himself at that thought.

Wait, no, where did that one come from?

Jean pressed a hand over his face, troubled over his love life (or rather, the lack of it).

The girl with the dark hair glanced at him in concern.

'You alright?' she asked.

Jean bolted upright and tried to play it cool. Yes, cool and suave. He mustered the manliest voice he could find, deepened it a notch more. 'Yeah, of course I am,' the ashbrown said, running his hand through his hair and trying to project the charisma and virility of James Dean. 'I’m totally fine. So…' he drawled, pretending to look disinterested. 'You're an acquaintance of Isabel?'

The girl looked at him quizzically, not sure what to make of the showboat.

Jean got the answer to his question when Eren arrived in the living room.

'Mikasa?' the brunet asked in surprise, gawking at her.

Jean Kirstein watched as the woman's face lit up. The telescreen all forgotten, she dropped the remote in Jean's lap (ouch!) and rushed over to meet Eren halfway, grabbing his hands and looking at him in relief.

'Are you okay?' she asked, giving Eren the quick once over. 'I heard on the news—'

The young man nodded, a smile playing at his lips.

'Relax, Mikasa,' he assured her. 'I’m good. But you managed to find this place, huh? When did you get here?'

A sleep deprived Isabel Magnolia emerged from the kitchen and announced her presence by clearing her throat. The inn keeper walked over to Eren and gave his shoulders a pat. 'Your friend arrived last night, _guapo_. The girl said she wanted to talk to you most _urgently_. I had to let her in.'

Eren turned to Mikasa and waited for her to speak.

The young woman went oddly quiet as she glanced around at the company around her.

'What is it?' Eren urged her. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

Mikasa’s gaze bounced from him to Isabel and then, to Jean. She frowned, caught the sleeve to Eren's shirt and tried to pull him aside.

'Eren, can we, _um_ , talk in private?'

Isabel Magnolia clicked her tongue at the visitor.

'You don't trust us, huh?' the redhead inferred, crossing her arms moodily. She had bags under her eyes and looked extremely fatigued, the gift of newfound motherhood no doubt. ‘That’s some nice manners you got there, _bonita_.’

The reporter shot her an apologetic look and chose her words carefully, trying to sound diplomatic so as not to offend her hosts. 'It's not that I don't trust you. But I hardly… _know_ you people.'

'Neither do we,' a new voice joined the fray, and Eren froze when he heard it, feeling like someone had dumped a bucket of ice cold water on him. They watched as the Vigilante strolled downstairs, his steps languorous on the carpet. He turned his shrouded face towards Mikasa, gauging her with his invisible eyes. 'Ackerman, right? I knew I’d seen you somewhere .'

The masked man climbed down the last of the stairs and stopped with his one hand on the railing, his movements functional and precise. The pattern of the inkblot changed as it considered her in the silence.

Mikasa went rigid at the sight of the Vigilante, recognizing him from the mugshot on the state bulletins. She turned to Eren, clutching his elbow and gave him a sharp look. 'Is this—' she hissed, motioning towards the man '— the guy you were telling me about?' she asked, growing panicked. 'He is a suspected arsonist, Eren. Why are you working with someone like him?'

The Vigilante walked over to them, stepping between the two and cutting her access to the peacekeeper.

'And you think you’re any better, paparazzi queen?' the masked man challenged, his voice low and serious. 'What brings you here? The Press has never given a shit about Maria. Why the change of heart now?'

Mikasa pursed her lips and glared at him.

'Is this how you treat your guests, mister? You look down on all of them?'

The voice that answered was curt and void of emotion.

'You’re not my guest. The Press aren’t welcome here. If I had my way, I’d be shooting you leeches down on sight.'

Hardened by her line of work, Mikasa wasn’t intimidated and stood her ground. 'I’m… not like my peers,' the woman insisted. 'I’m not here for a scoop either. Or to spy on you. Right now, I’m here to talk to Eren. And why do I even need to explain myself to you?'

At this juncture, Isabel who was still battling her post-partum blues, growled and spoke up in her leader’s defence.

'You should explain because you are under our roof, _bonita_ ,' Isabel remarked. Her arms were folded over her apron and while she did not like quarrels in her establishment, Mikasa's aloofness and reluctance to confide in them was frankly insulting.

Mikasa frowned, finding herself cornered and outnumbered by strangers. She turned to Eren in quiet desperation.

'Eren, look—' she addressed him. 'I know you’ve got questions. I can give you the answers you seek. But only, if you _let_ me.'

The Vigilante’s mask surveyed her before turning to Eren.

'If there is anyone who needs to do any explaining, it’s this fucking moron here.'

Eren realised that the epithet was directed at him.

He blinked in surprise.

'Wait. What did you just call me?' he asked the masked man.

The inkblot face hovered over Eren's to examine the young man.

'Moron. Idiot. Imbecile,' elucidated the older man. 'Want to hear more?'

A hush fell over the room; Jean felt a rise in him, anger on his partner’s behalf. Eren wasn’t taking it well either. The boy’s face went ashen, mouth clamming up and not making a sound. He looked like he wanted to say something but refrained at the last moment. Jean watched Eren's fingers tighten into a fist instead, his arm shaking at his side. It was funny how the two had ventured to play catch just yesterday. It was funny how mere words could turn into chinks in one’s armour. But the peacekeeper kept himself calm and collected.

'What’s your problem?' Eren asked. ‘Just come out and say it.’

'My problem, airhead,' said the masked man. '— is the fact that you revealed our hideout to the media. You led a member of the press _right_ to our den. Do you realise how reckless that move was?'

Eren closed the distance between them, unafraid, and faced the man in defiance.

'I trust Mikasa,' he said.

The Vigilante scoffed.

'And _my_ people trust me. If your mistake brings harm to any of them—'

The masked man left the words unsaid, but everyone in the room knew what the threat implied. The silence that followed was fraught with tension and emotions running high, and Mikasa rubbed her elbow in apprehension. Her gaze moved from the peacekeeper to the man— to this condescending man who went by the name ‘Vigilante’. She hadn't meant to cause a fuss but from the way Eren was glaring at the man, she wondered if she'd accidentally stirred the hornet’s nest.

Eren clamped down on the anger inside him and withdrew; he smiled bitterly, a grim twist to his mouth as he pulled back. He looked away, and Jean saw the hurt in those eyes. The young man nodded curtly to no one in particular. 'Fine, I get it,' he said at last. 'I am... sorry about putting your people in danger. It won't happen again.'

The Vigilante accepted the apology. He shook his head and swept past the brunet.

'Good. Now, ask your friend to leave.'

Eren looked incredulously at the man’s back as the Vigilante left for the hallway.

'You can't be serious—'

The Vigilante paused. 'I assure you, kid, that I’m _fucking_ serious. Get the paparazzi woman to leave. Or I'll throw her out myself.'

Deeming the argument to be closed, the man left.

Eren looked on helplessly until he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Izzie.

'Calm down, _guapo_. Calm down,' Isabel placated him, squeezing his shoulder and lending him her support. 'Ask the reporter to leave. I will arrange for her to meet you at the party,' the redhead assured Eren. Before he could say anything more, the innkeeper leaned in and pressed her mouth to his ear. 'Don't worry. The Captain won't have to know,' she said.

Eren managed a smile.

'Thanks, Izzie.’

 

 

 

 

 

The sky was overcast, the palm-like trees of Maria with toughened bark, pines for foliage, swayed with the wind, and he could hear the distant echoes of thunder. A breeze swept through the subpar land, sending a wave of dust towards him and bringing with it distant echoes of rain. Eren drew back into the interior of the marquee, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He didn't expect to find himself under the canvas of a spiegeltent once again. Yet, here he was, looking at the small basilica windows and remembering the events of an auction house. When he’d almost got sold to a bunch of debauch men, creeps vying for his cherry. That’s when he got rescued by the most unconventional of knights in shining armor— the Masked Vigilante. A man who was more an anti-hero than anything _knightly_.

At the memory, Eren stood stumped for a second. Doubts rose in the crevasses of his mind.

Yeah.

How did Levi find him that night of the slave auction? And how did Levi find him the day Eren got lost in the bazaar?

Puzzled, the peacekeeper fidgeted with his hands and twisted his ring out of habit. That’s when the answer struck him.

 

_‘It was in your wedding ring.’_

 

Eren looked down at it, pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

 _Figures_ , Eren thought. He slipped the ring off his finger and studied it in the hues of evening light, watching the metal glint. There was the wedding band with no inscription, no engraving of names or eternal promises. Just a band of silver with something hidden inside. A tracer, and he had a hunch that it was still active, still beeping and still tracing its wearer. Perhaps, he hadn't been the only one chasing. While Eren Jaeger was annoyed that he was being tracked by that prick of a husband of his, the thought strangely reassured him.

That the man cared.

 _Somewhat_.

And it struck Eren how he was always grappling for straws. For clues and signs. Forever hoping that these years hadn't been in vain; that these last three years had meant something to Levi too.

Though the way Levi treated him sometimes, Eren was beginning to have his doubts.

He felt a hand tap his shoulder and upon turning; he was greeted to the sight of his buddies: Jean, Armin and Marco all dressed up. Decked in a suit that was one size too large for him, Armin held a restless Krobe in his arms. The dog was flailing and wriggling in his grasp, trying get away from him, but Armin restrained it, keeping a steady hand wrapped around its middle.

Eren smiled at Krobe and reached out to scratch its head. His smile weighed heavy.

'Bad memories?' Marco asked the brunet, reading Eren's thoughts like an open book.

Eren smiled wryly and shook his head.

'Nah, I'm good,' he said and cast an apologetic glance at his friends. 'Sorry for dragging you guys so far.'

The ashbrown shrugged and smoothed down his jacket. 'Sheesh. We're not here for you, dipshit,' said Jean, leaning against one of the wooden posts that held up the tent. 'Don't know about you, Jaeger, but I’m here to _partay_ all night long,' he said with a wink.

Eren frowned as he looked them over.

Jean and Marco were suited up in shades of dark purple and beige, complete with pocket square and half vests, both dressed to impress.

'Uh,’ Eren trailed. ‘Care explaining why you guys are in black tie while I’m lounging around in my lousy tee shirt? No one told me that we had a dress code!'

Jean shrugged.

'Considering you can’t keep your clothes on, are you really surprised?'

Eren gave a resigned sigh.

He conceded Jean had a point. (Although he hated it when Jean had a point.)

'Right,' he admitted grumpily. Leaving his spot, Eren ambled over to his partner and frowning, he reached forward to fix Jean's crooked tie.

The smug grin on Jean's face vanished at Eren’s approach. He held his breath and blinked in surprise. His initial shock wore down, to be replaced by the beginnings of a smile— a smile that didn't go unnoticed. Eren looked up at him suspiciously as he straightened the knot of Jean’s black tie.

'What?' the brunet demanded. ‘What’s so funny?’

Jean's voice held the hint of laughter.

'You're like a housewife, Jaeger. A snarky but cute housewife.'

'Do you want me to strangle you, Sea Biscuit? My hands are in a convenient place if you haven't noticed.'

Jean gave a simmer of laughter and nodded, pointing Eren's attention to the dais.

'There's our host,' said Jean, indicating towards Magnum.

Eren pulled back and looked at the stage. He watched as the man with dreadlocks climbed the podium and greeted everyone, shaking hands with his old pals and directed them to the buffet. Beside him, Isabel looked remarkably svelte. Eren and his friends were so used to seeing Izzie in her no-frills apron and a bloated belly, that it was hard to believe this was the same ol' bitchy innkeeper of Chromium Shark. In her long-cut yellow off-shoulders dress that showed off all the right curves and ample bosom, Eren began to understand why exactly Magnum called her 'hot mama' or how Hunter got away with calling her a vixen. And there was the baby Sol in the fold of her mother's arms, unaware that all the festivities were dedicated to her.

'That's one lucky kid,' observed Jean.

‘What? You jelly of a kid?’ Armin prompted.

Jean shrugged. 'C'mon. Most folks don't even get their first birthday celebrated. For this Titan kid, they’re throwing a party for just being born. That's one lucky little monster, I tell you.'

‘Sounds like you’re jealous indeed, Jean,’ quipped Marco with a chuckle.

Leaning against his post again, the ashbrown shrugged and swayed his hips to some imaginary beat.

'To be honest, I don’t care who the celebration is for. Not as long as I get to binge and _partay_ all night along.'

Eren groaned.

'I swear, Jean. You say that _one_ more time, I’m gonna kick you.'

It wasn't a party in the ordinary sense of the word. There was no discotheque ball, no booming bass speakers and no alcohol. The spiegeltent was lit by low hanging paper lanterns, a dazzling array of yellow and red luminescence lights, which when reflected in the mirrors gave the illusion that there were more than a hundred lights in the tent. And then, there were the people— five hundred rebels who'd come from long and far. Most looked intimidating with barcodes on their wrists, an eye patch or wicked looking scars on their neck and faces. There were also the people of the subpar— close acquaintances who, Eren thought, looked more like hobos from the soup kitchen.

Eren felt inclined to believe what Jean had said.

Most people were here to freeload than anything else.

Armin, who’d disappeared minutes ago, reappeared with drinks in hand. Strange looking purple drinks which smelled like Aloe Vera and looked like Boba tea from back home. He sniffed at his own glass while passing the rest around the group.

'You know,' the blond began. 'They weren’t joking when they said this place is the underground. Do you see—' Armin paused, allowing a well-built man to shuffle past him, '—the size of the people here? Friggin' giants!'

Jean pulled at his cuffs. 'Meh. It must be steroids or somethin',' Jean offered as means of explanation and looked at the crowd in amusement, 'Plus, compared to you, midget, anyone's gonna look big.'

'Hey!' Armin squawked, straightening the burden on his back. 'I heard that.'

Jean noticed the bag on Armin's shoulder.

'Armin, why the heck did you bring your backpack to a party?' Jean asked the boy, scowling.

The saint shrugged as he took a sip of his drink. It wasn't Aloe Vera, nor was it Boba tea, and it wasn't like anything he‘d tasted before. Sour at first, the drink burnt its way down his throat. Armin pulled a face of disgust and stared into his glass. 'Eugh,’ he grimaced, ‘What is _this_ stuff?’ He turned to Jean and found the ashbrown tugging at his bag. ‘I've got assignments in there. References and notes. And hey, I don't know about you two—' he said, pointing to Jean and Eren crossly, '—but I intend to graduate once we return to Earth. Like hello. University? Exams? Credits? Anything ring a bell?'

'Nerd,' Jean muttered with a sigh. ‘Learn to live a little.’

The blond ignored him and turned to Eren. 'We are going back, right?' he asked his best friend. 'Eren, I love you and shit... but we NEED to go back.'

Eren nodded gingerly.

'Yeah, we will, Armin,' the peacekeeper promised.

'What else have you got in your backpack besides schoolwork?' Jean asked the blond, tugging at the bag again.

'Uh, folders, chewing gum, phone and my player.'

Jean's hazel eyes lit up at the last one.

'Hold on, shorty. You've got a _music_ player stashed in there?'

Armin started to nod until he noted the expression on the ashbrown’s face.

'Oh no,' said Armin, dreading the way Jean's face had lit up.

Jean gave a crooked smile as he looked between Marco and Armin. 'Guys, I just had a brilliant idea.'

Armin pinched his nose.

'Yeah and I’m not gonna like it one bit.'

Jean rolled an arm around Armin's shoulders and started to lead him away.

'C'mon, sourpuss. Time to party.'

Armin looked at the brutish crowd around them and gave a shudder. 'No offence, jerkface but I don't want to rub any noses the wrong way. Right now, I am happy if I even get to see tomorrow. I mean, have you SEEN the guys here? Do you NOT see the muscles, the friggin' dragon tattoos, the death glares—?'

Eren didn't hear the rest of it. He scanned the crowd, searching for Mikasa but couldn't find her. He excused himself to go stand at the buffet table— a place that he hoped would be more approachable if the reporter happened to spot him.

 

 

 

 

 

There was a trio of street musicians standing in the middle of the Spiegeltent, lending music to the festivity. A clarinet, an accordion and a strange wind instrument that Eren had never seen before. At first, he couldn't understand how the Titans found Polka music enjoyable. But he caught sight of the cloaked rebels, leading out some of Maria's ladies to the dance floor. He suppressed a smile as the men clapped and whistled in encouragement to the couples in the limelight. Their enthusiasm was addictive. Eren couldn't help but smile and tap his foot to the slow beat.

It was like the masquerade party at The Ritz. Except there was this feeling of a community, this togetherness here. His image of slave traders and bounty hunters slowly burned away.

And Eren was reminded of high school prom.

People dancing to a slow jam. Couples spilling drink over one another. Laughter in the air; music in his ears.

And him standing dateless at the buffet table.

Yep.

Good ol' memories, alright. Some things never changed, just like the words in his head.

 

_And my people trust me. If your mistake brings harm to any of them—_

 

 

The smile was gone as fast as it had come. _My people._ He tried vainly to drown out those words. He noticed Isabel and Magnum sharing a brief kiss on the dais, Sol caught between them.

Eren forced himself to look away, reminding himself of what he’d come here for. He took a glimpse at the gathering, searching for Mikasa’s face in the crowd. He didn't see her, but he found someone else instead. An anomaly in the sea of human faces. And the very last person he had hoped to encounter. The masked man was slunk away in a corner of the celebration, his face shadowed under the rim of a fedora. The Captain sat folded in a chair, his knees crossed, his chin propped on one hand. His gaze had been fixed on the paper lanterns in boredom until it shifted and fell on Eren.  

The inkblot swirled into a new shape, new form, and remained fixed on Eren.

Eren blinked and searched for something else to look at. The lanterns, the parapet, the mirrors, anything. He wondered how Mikasa was going to meet him if the Captain was keeping a steady watch on him.

He risked another glance in the man's direction. This time, he found Farlan leaning over and speaking to the Captain in hushed whispers.

Eren averted his gaze again and spotted Armin making his way through the crowd. The blond joined him at the buffet table to refill his glass with the purple drink that he hated so much. The saint was a paradox in many ways. Grabbing a paper plate, Armin next passed a critical eye over the buffet table to determine which of the foods wouldn’t make him hurl.

Armin noticed Eren wasn’t eating or drinking anything.

'You seem distracted. Who were you looking at?' his best friend asked.

'No one,' Eren lied.

'No one?'

The peacekeeper caught the mischievous glint in his friend's blue eyes.

'What?' Eren demanded, piqued.

Armin took a sip of his drink, its rather unusual tasted growing on him.

'You were looking for the masked dude, weren't you?'

Eren bit his lips and shook his head.

'No, why the hell would I look for him?'

'Because you… like him?’ Armin said, deadpan. ‘Because you have a secret, creepy fetish for people who wear masks?'

'I don't like him,' Eren snarled, crossing his arms. 'And for the record, I don't have a stupid fetish like that.'

Armin studied him skeptically.

'What were you doing over here? A moment ago?'

'I was… admiring the decor.'

'The decor?' Armin echoed, looking up at the paper lanterns.

'Yeah.'

Armin suppressed a smile as he downed his drink and turned to Eren.

'You need to work on your lying. Seriously, Eren, what is it with you... and that guy?'

Eren opened his mouth to protest this insinuation but decided against it. Instead, he looked on patiently as Armin poured himself another glass of purple frothing liquid which was no longer appetising to look at.

'I’m not lying,' griped Eren.

And it was true. Eren wasn't particularly fond of the Vigilante at the moment.

Armin turned and gauged him.

'Well, I hope for your sake you're telling the truth. Don’t go cheating on your dead husband, Eren. He will twist and turn in his grave if he finds out.'

The saint did a cross and looked at the heavens, adding a feverish supplication under his breath.

The peacekeeper rolled his eyes at Armin's theatrics.

'Yeah, I bet. Just go bug someone else already.'

'Oh, trust me, I will. Excuse me now ‘cos I have to go enlighten Marco on Quantum Mechanics. He calls it pseudo science, can you believe that?'

The blond turned to leave and stopped suddenly.

'Eren?' he called.

The peacekeeper stiffened.

'What now?'

'Remember. Adultery is not cool. Not cool at all,' the saint delivered his last sermon before the boy turned and fled with a snide smirk plastered to his face.

Eren didn’t get the chance to retort to his best friend, because the speakers chortled and Magnum began to address the gathering.

 

 

 

* * *

 


	75. Dance

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter-75- Dance

~.~

 

'Ladies and Gentlemen,' Magnum began. He paused since Isabel coughed and gave him a pointed look. The man grinned and winked to the crowd, amending his greeting. 'Correction. _Pretty_ ladies and gentlemen, thank you for making it to the party. As you all know, I’ve recently become a father.'

His speech was interrupted by a loud jeer from the crowd. Someone chimed in with a 'Never knew you had a dick, Maggie,' which made all the guests laugh and shake their fists at him in jest.

Magnum, being the kindred spirit of the party, pretended to have not heard the comment.

'Yes, yes, thank you for the, _um_ , best wishes.'

He cleared his throat and paused to look at Isabel mollycoddling Baby Sol. Izzie cooed to the infant, dandled her lightly and kissed her forehead. Magnum's gaze softened, his happiness turning two-fold, and the man with the dreadlocks spent a long ruminative moment admiring the scene. When Isabel cleared her throat, reminding him that everyone was still waiting for his supposed welcome speech, an embarrassed Magnum turned back to the circle of guests. He shuffled through the pockets of his grey overcoat and blinked twice.

'Sorry, where was I? Right… as you all know, I’ve become a father. Hard to believe it but miracles do happen, init?’ Again, there was a flurry of laughter all around. ‘So, my peeps, the reason we are all gathered here under this roof today is to celebrate, to rejoice… the birth of my little girl and most importantly, to have _fun_. Mael knows we need it. We have food,' he gave a silly bow, pointing to the buffet table. '— with courtesy from the State. Thank you, Ulkridge.'

There was another round of laughter.

'We have ambience, good music and a dance floor. If any of you want to exercise those dancing toes, be my guest.'

'But where is the booze, my man?' someone asked.

Boos erupted. A cacophony of voices broke out from the rebels, demanding their fair share of alcohol.

'Aye! We have been tricked. Where. is. the. rum, mate?’

Magnum laughed and gave an apologetic smile to the masses.

'No booze, comrades. The Queen's orders.'

There was a crude protest and amidst the commotion, Eren watched Jean raise his hand. All eyes turned to the ashbrown in question. Eren, who’d been contemplating on getting himself a glass of that icky purple drink, stopped his rumination and looked at his partner.

What was horseface doing?

Magnum looked at the younger man in surprise and nodded.

'Yes, Jean?'

Jean directed everyone's attention to the street musicians, who were on a break and tuning their instruments.

'No offence, dude, but your music sucks. It’s like prehistoric.'

The players of the clarinet, accordion and the funny-looking wind instrument seemed very much offended at this assessment of their talents. They glared at Jean while Magnum turned to the ashbrown, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

'Sorry Jean, but that's all we've got—'

Eren saw his friend's lips quirk up into a smile.

'How about I hook you up to something better?' Jean suggested, grinning.

Magnum looked at him puzzled.

The ashbrown gave a low whistle and held up something in air. Eren groaned when he recognised the object Jean held up in his hand.

Armin's music player.

 

 

 

 

The thing about Jean Kirstein?

He never took no for an answer.

Eren didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or laugh at the scene unfolding before him. As promised, Jean hooked the speakers to Armin's player. It hadn't been easy. Hunter had to scavenge for the right adapter in his tool box. And having broken down the device, changed transistors and connected the output to the woofers, they struggled to power the pod on… until Hunter finally found a power converter to feed into it. The music player, which had been dead for days all together, finally woke up to a most wonderstruck audience on Titan.

And the party which had hitherto seemed like the retirement party for veterans was now in full swing with the familiar tunes of Eren’s world, bringing with it nostalgia and an addictive drumbeat that thrummed in the air. At first, the Titans had looked at each other in confusion as The Cranberries bellowed out a heart-rending war anthem. Or when Billy Joel came on with 'We Didn't Start the Fire'. Armin's playlist was turning out to be an eclectic and mortifying mix of genres from Best Coast's 'Boyfriend' to Depeche Mode's 'Just Can't Get Enough'.

Much to the collective embarrassment of the Earthborns, the Titans didn't really 'get into the groove' as early as they could have hoped for. The rebels of Farlan, the mobsters from the underground and the hobos stood gathered around, watching Jean in amazement as he jived, bobbed, and dipped his way through the songs, did the 360 windmill, or just swayed his arms and hips to the beat in liquid energy, trying to encourage people into joining him. But what finally struck a chord with the Titans and stirred them to join him… was Maroon 5.

And it had to be that one song.

Eren barked out in laughter as 'Moves like Jagger' came on.

The music was like adrenaline injected into his system, making even Eren pulse and bob his head. The peacekeeper began tapping his feet, without realising what he was doing.

He watched as Jean left his spot on the dance floor. Rendered breathless from his last jive, Jean made a dash to the middle of the Spiegeltent and looked around wildly, searching for someone in the crowd. Eren, marooned at the buffet table, soon realised that Jean was actually looking for him.

The brunet didn't duck in time.

Jean grinned, his hazel eyes finding ocean green; he beckoned Eren forward with a wave.

'Come on, Jaeger,’ he bellowed out in challenge. ‘Let's show these Titans what real dancing is. None of this Polka crap.'

Eren didn’t take the bait at first. He shook his head fiercely and stood his ground.  'Hell no,' the brunet said guardedly. ‘Count me out. I’m not making a fool of myself here!’

'Oh c’mon, don't be a chicken.'

Eren flipped him the middle finger.

'Fuck you. Who are you calling a chicken?'

Jean stuck his tongue out at him, holding a hand to his ear in pantomime. 'I can't hear you, man. All I hear is puck-puck-p'kaw, puck-puck-p'kaw,' his partner mimicked, ticking Eren off further if it were possible. The peacekeeper growled when he saw the sea of faces around them snicker, appreciating Jean's mimicry.

The other thing about Jean Kirstein?

He knew how to push the right buttons.

'You coming or what?' Jean asked, grinning like an imp.

Eren cast a pained look at the ceiling of the Spiegeltent and against his better judgment, made up his mind.

'Yeah, I’m coming, I’m coming,’ said Eren and letting slip a reluctant smile, he followed the music to the dance floor.

 

 

 

 

Isabel and Magnum joined the masked man at his table. Music was blaring from the high woofers, its sounds and vocals otherworldly to the Titans and all eyes were turned to the middle of the Spiegeltent where two young men were competing to outdo each other. Isabel cradled a wide-eyed Sol to her chest. The redhead cast a furtive glance at the Vigilante, who was looking either at the paper lanterns or at the dance floor. She couldn't quite tell from the angle of his masked face. But his tense shoulders told Isabel a different story.

Isabel smoothed down her yellow dress and nudged Magnum.

'Those earthlings are something, huh, _amante_?' Isabel remarked, studying the Vigilante as she spoke.

'Sure, are,' Magnum answered. 'They know how to have fun. Especially that fellow Jean. I have never seen anyone roll his hips the way he does. I guess I should learn that move from him, huh?'

At the last bit, the Vigilante turned to him sharply, and Magnum balked under what he could only assume to be the Captain’s death glare.

'Ah, I mean, I mean, he’s not as much fun as you, Captain. You're Sol's godfather. You're the life and soul of this party. With you sitting here, brooding and… stuff.'

Isabel broke into a smile and reaching over the table, she caught the Captain's gloved hand in her own.

'Why don't you go dance with him, _hermano_?'

The reply came in the form of a scoff.

'I don't dance. I'd look like a freak… anyway.'

'I hate to say this, _hermano_. But I think Eren likes the freak part of you as well.' Isabel grinned. 'Besides, who cares about silly things like that? You two have been stealing glances at each other ever since we got here.'

'Nobody is stealing glances at anybody,' the Vigilante snapped. 'That brat hates me. Plain and simple as that.'

Isabel clicked her tongue.

'And he should. I still think he's too good for you. Isn't that right, Magnum?'

The man with the dreadlocks looked like he was caught on the edge of a cliff, since agreeing with either the Captain or Isabel meant offending the other. Isabel passed Sol into his arms. 'Tell me something, _mi papi._ If something happened to me and I was lost in a place far, far away, would you cross entire worlds to come and get me?'

Brows furrowed, Magnum considered the question for a long moment.

Turning impatient, Isabel slapped his wrist with a tut.

'You're _not_ supposed to mull over it for this long.'

Magnum flinched and rubbed his wrist.

'Ouch, sorry. I was wondering if it was a trick question.'

The redhead shot the heavens a grave look.

'Nana was right. She told me you are an idiot before she passed away. That you’re as brilliant as a doorknob. And by Titania, the woman was right.'

There was the scraping of a chair against the floor. The masked man stood up and pocketed the plate of bread rolls into one of his many coat pockets. With one last glance at the dance floor and at the two young men on the dance floor, the Vigilante turned to leave.

'Where are you going?' Izzie asked.

'Outside,’ he simply said. ‘I need some air.’

But before leaving, he wagged his gloved fingers at Sol, earning a giggle from the baby.

 

 

 

 

They embraced the music; and the music embraced them too like long lost sons.

Jean and Eren tried out all the moves in the bag.

The harlem shake. The robot dance. Hip hop boogie.

Even Gangnam style, which Eren employed more to annoy Jean than anything else.

They even the taught the crowd: how to do the Mexican wave. The boys ought to look ridiculous. The Titans probably thought the two to be the dorkiest idiots in the universe. They could see the crowd laughing at them, Armin shaking his head in disbelief and Marco holding back his smile.

But Eren felt strangely exhilarated. Yep, this was turning out to be just like high school prom except… he did have a _date_ this time. A 'sort of' date and Jean had no qualms about competing with Eren and looking like an idiot at the same time. If Maroon 5 had been a hit with the crowd, Shakira was a riot. Armin's music player belted out the next track, which was the classic 'Hips Don't Lie'. Eren and Jean danced to the Colombian Queen's addictive rhythm, with their backs pressed to each other, lolling their heads from side to side and jamming with their hips like there was no tomorrow. The young men from Earth ad-libbed to the lyrics, shooting each other winks and banged their heads to the beats.

At some point, the music was interrupted by the roll of thunder. They heard the pitter-patter of rain falling on the roof of the Spiegeltent.

One of the hobos stuck his hand out through the flap of the canvas, testing the water.

'Not acidic, folks. SAFE! It's good rain. Nothing gonna happen to the fabric. Tent’s safe, aye!'

Eren stopped dancing and took a moment to listen to the calming sounds of the rain.

It was then that he remembered a conversation from the past.

The peacekeeper caught the sleeve to Jean's tux and tugged the dancing man to a stop.

'What?' the ashbrown asked, breathless from all the gyrations. He looked at Eren, surprised to see his partner laughing.

'Your third wish,' Eren yelled, trying to speak over the music.

'Huh?'

'Your third wish was to go dance in the rain. Remember the BUCKET LIST, you jackass!' Eren yelled again, trying to remind him.

Jean couldn’t help but frown.

Eren caught the taller boy's arm and dragged him outdoors. The crowd booed when they saw the boys leaving. To compensate for their absence and to take their place as mentor to the dancing crowd, Eren caught Armin's shoulder and threw him amidst the circle of booing Titans.

'Don't worry, folks,' announced the brunet. 'Armin will show you rest of the moves,' Eren said, winking at Armin.

'WHAT?' the saint blurted out.

 

 

 

 

Thunder roared in their ears. and the storm winds made the boys shiver.

Eren looked up at Titan's dark skies, an incandescent smile flitting over his lips. He savoured in the feeling of rain splashing across his face and the water trickling down his neck, journeying down his bare arms, his back, and every pore of his skin— both exposed and covered. The water didn't sting and despite his t-shirt clinging to his back, Eren felt liberated and eerily calm. He turned to Jean and watched his friend thoughtfully.

'So, does your wish have any specifics? What style do you wanna dance? Waltz, hip hop?' Eren asked, wiping the tendrils of wet hair from his eyes.

There was a glimmer in those blue green eyes. Excitement and energy that was difficult to refuse.

Jean shivered a little. His tux was drenched, and he swept his hands into the pockets, trying to stay poised. The ashbrown's head was sunk low, his breathing laboured as he studied his dress shoes.

'What's wrong? Jean?' Eren asked, giving his shoulder a mock punch and trying to look past Jean’s fringe to get a good look at his face. 'C'mon, it was one of your three wishes, right?'

Jean looked up and managed a bleak smile.

'What?' Eren asked, leaning in. 'Cat got your tongue?'

'You remembered,' was all Jean said. 'I can't believe you actually… remembered.'

There was a crease in Eren's eyebrows. His demeanour turned serious, his jaw set.

'Of course, I did.'

'Why?'

'What do you mean why?' Eren asked him. The boy shrugged his shoulders and considered the overcast dark clouds painted against the sky. 'After all that you've done for me, Jean, the least I can do... is pay attention. Armin, Marco and you. You guys have been there for me through thick and thin. I can’t thank you enough for that.'

Jean lifted his arm and returned the punch from earlier.

Eren chuckled, wincing slightly at the hit.

'And besides…'

'Besides?' Jean prompted.

'I told you, right? I hate owing favors. Especially to you.'

'Gee, thanks,' Jean replied with sarcasm.

The smile dissolved from Eren's face. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

'Jean… I mean it. Thanks for being there.'

The ashbrown nodded and tilting his head forward, he closed the gap between them. If Eren was uncomfortable with this sudden proximity, he didn't let on. No, not this time.

Jean was silent for a long moment as he let the rain wash over them. He watched Eren’s storm-beaten face, admiring the sharp angles, the water hanging to the lashes, and brought up his hand to touch Eren’s chin.

'Can I change my wish?' he finally asked.

Eren narrowed his gaze, glowering at him.

'Hey, if you haven't noticed, we're already drenched to the bone. You can't change your wish now—!' the boy protested.

'Kiss me,' Jean said quickly, meeting Eren’s gaze with a steel like determination of his own.

Eren stared at him wide-eyed.

'Yeah,' said Jean. 'Just kiss me under this… blasted rain. That's all I want right now.'

Eren blinked twice, ocean eyes wavering from hazel for a moment.

'You said you want to settle the score, right?' Jean prodded. 'Kiss me, suicidal bastard. For old time's sake. For that time in the woods.'

Eren debated the request in the pitter-patter of the rain. And much to Jean's amazement, he gave a slow nod.

The boy with the messy brown hair reached for Jean's suit and pulled the taller man close. Close enough to feel each other’s warm breath on freezing nerves. The brunet pressed a hand at the base of Jean's neck, gingerness in every touch of his and looped Jean in closer so that their noses could touch.

Despite the awkwardness, Eren managed a smirk.

'Just warning you. I am a _damn_ good kisser. I might end up knocking your socks off.'

Jean smiled, humouring him.

'Get on with it.'

Despite his feigned confidence, Eren's execution was endearingly clumsy. His fingers were slippery as they clasped around the long face, caressing the jaw. And before he thought too much into it, Eren Jaeger leaned forward and pressed his mouth to his partner's.

Jean smiled into the kiss.

It was different from the time in the woods. For one, there wasn't a fire breathing alien monster chasing them. This was no testosterone-fueled camaraderie. For two, Eren was the one initiating the kiss this time, which made all the difference. And for the last, Jean decided to give in to Mephistopheles’s roar and the ashbrown turned this chaste, lukewarm lip lock into what the demon in his head had always wanted.

A much overdue French Kiss with Eren Jaeger.

A bad idea?

Maybe.

Or maybe not.

And Eren, though initially taken aback, let him. The brunet allowed him to delve a tongue into that soft, slippery mouth. There was the taste of rain, sweetness and… Eremones.

Jean smirked into the kiss, relishing the moment.

Someone called Eren's name, and they pulled apart from the kiss with as much as finesse as they had started this journey with. The air was thick with emotions running high. Jean watched as Eren pressed a hand to his swollen lips, cheeked flushed a little, eyes dazed, and turned to the open flap of the Spiegeltent. There was Mikasa Ackerman, the reporter’s silhouette cast against the lights of the marquee... and she was waiting for him. Eren turned to Jean and gave him an awkward smile. No words passed between them. With one last faint nod and a fistbump, the peacekeeper turned and left in the direction of the tent.

 

 

* * *

 


	76. Rage

 

 

Chapter-76- Rage

~.~

 

Jean gave the sky above a long glance and listened to storm clouds rumble overhead. Water trickled down his damp face in rivulets, washing away the sweat lining his undercut, dead cells in every pore and the lingering traces of Eren's lips.

The mouth which could speak zealously on duty and honor, the mouth which could debate with him, call him stupid nicknames... was a wonderland on its own. And so was that tongue mesmerising to play with and tease. Jean realised he liked this side of Eren better. The quieter, seductive Eren as opposed to the loudmouthed, uptight idiot he'd grown up with. But along with this feeling of heightened passion, romance, Eremones and the hooting of Mephistopheles was... guilt. A whole lot of guilt because Jean hadn't played fair in this game. The PeaceCorp turned to his right, and he saw the silhouette of someone standing under the awning of a wooden post. Someone wearing a fedora, almost invisible in the shadows but not quite. Eren didn't notice the man but Jean did. And the timing couldn't have been more perfect; Jean could only hope that the camel's back was broken.

Dripping wet, Jean took off his wet jacket, rolled it under an armpit; he stuffed his hands into his pant pockets. With a smug smile plastered to his face, he sauntered over to the man, joining him under the shelter of the awning. The inkblot mask did not betray any emotion, but Jean was curious to see the real face behind that disguise.

What was the guy thinking?

Had he stroked the rage yet?

Did the green monster rear its ugly head yet?

Jean pulled at his cuffs and ran a hand through his frizzy ash hair, feigning a triumphant smile.

'I’m impressed,' he said. 'You've still got your pokerface on, Mr. Vigilante. I'm truly impressed,' he taunted.

His companion didn't say anything.

The rain played its steady strum of music as it slowed. 

'Aw, man. You don't even care... do you?' Jean observed. He turned sideways and watched the man's stance in amusement. 'That's the difference between you and me, Captain sir. You may be regarded as a leader by the people here. You might delude yourself into thinking you're some kinda hotshot... some effing hero on a glory trip. But you don't fool me, buster. Deep down, you're afraid like the rest of us.'

Jean leaned in closer and studied the mask carefully. The ashbrown smirked when he watched the black dots swirl in diffidence.

'And trust me, when it comes to Eren,' Jean resumed his line of thought, his expression turning dead serious. 'You're nothing but a coward. A douche-bag who hides behind a pathetic little mask.'

The man with the two faces tilted his head to look up at him.

'Don't push it, kid,' came the warning. 'Back away when you have the chance or things... will get messy,' the voice threatened him.

If there was one thing Jean Kirstein hated, it was to be patronized. The man had shown him his options, even shown him the way out, but Jean didn't take the easy way out. True, his opponent had shown him the door, but he wasn't intent on leaving. Not yet. Jean's smirk grew wider and he rose to the challenge. He picked up the gauntlet, knowing he was asking for it.

'Wow,’ he said. ‘Seems like you do care, man. Did I hit a sore nerve?'

The Vigilante remained remarkably silent at this provocation. Jean would have given the older man credit for his cool demeanor, if his own anger wasn't threatening to bustle forth. Jean gave a deriding chuckle as he looked at the line of trees that separated the venue from the desert road. They could hear the music in the tent, music from his own world drowning out the rain. The thunder lords of Titan seemed to be moving away to greener pastures at long last. But their reign had not been without casualty. 

'You know, I didn't get it,' Jean remarked, studying a chipped nail. 'At first, I didn't understand what he saw in you. Cos' you're... this _old_   _dude_  with a horrible, horrible personality. But you know what I'm thinking right now,' Jean asked, leaning in to intrude into the man's personal space. A move that he was sure would irk the Vigilante than anything else. 'NOW I'm thinking what _you_ saw in him,' the younger man flashed him a wide smile and stuffed his hands into his pockets. 'So, tell me, _Corporal_ , do you enjoy stringing that kid along? Do you enjoy playing fetch with him?'

And perhaps, here, he hit a really sore nerve. No sooner had he finished talking, a gloved hand flew out. The hand grabbed him without warning, yanking him by his shirt. The sheathed fingers twisted into the fabric and began pulling Jean away, dragging him out of the awning's cover.

Jean didn't back down and he let his mouth run, triumphant at having finally broken that cool, hard facade.

'C'mon, Captain,' he taunted as he was pulled forward by force. 'Tell me. What did you see in him? Is it because Eren trusts easily? Or is it because you can train him like a puppy and make him follow you to the ends of this damned universe? What is it? WHAT?'

'Shut up,' the Vigilante muttered, his grip on Jean turning vice-like. 'You know nothing about me. You know nothing about _us_.'

Jean scoffed and his mouth twisted.

'Us? Are you kidding me? What the fuck is _'us'_? You and your people? Or you and... Eren?'

It was at this juncture that the arm holding him captive loosened its grip. The younger man yanked himself free at the opportunity and let out a caustic laugh, a laugh at the sheer hypocrisy of those words. He looked up at the Vigilante, hazel eyes dark and furious. 'I know enough about you and trust me, you don't paint a pretty picture. You fucking Pavlov... You treat your husband worse than that dog of yours. Do you even realise that?'

If there was a line marked in white chalk that screamed 'Don't cross me, Jean, don't effing cross me. Halt, about turn and retreat!', Jean was sure he crossed it now. He'd just successfully pissed off the Vigilante, the revered leader of the underworld, a man who apparently had a knack for breaking fingers. And at these words, the man snapped like a taut wire, his patience coming undone. Jean found himself kneed into his guts and a gloved fist hit him square on the jaw.

The young man doubled over in pain and pressed a hand to his bleeding mouth.

The masked man pulled back, flexing his fingers and Jean could hear him breathing hard, trying to restrain himself.

'I told you not to push it. I warned you.'

Jean gave a breathless laugh, his voice strained from the pain and the dots in his vision. 'Hit me then. I want Eren to see you for the violent, heartless bastard that you are. I’m not scared of you, Captain... Corporal... Levi, whatever shit you wanna call yourself.'

The Vigilante reached forward, caught his ash hair and pulled Jean up forcibly.

The inkblot face appraised him in the silence.

'You're not scared of me?' the deep voice echoed coldly. 'I'll teach you, you spoiled rich kid. I'll show you all kinds of fear. I will show you fear in a _handful_ of dust. I will make a wimp out of you and wish you'd never even been born.'

Jean smirked and twisted himself free. Bracing himself, he motioned with his fingers  and urged the man to come at him.

'Oh yeah?' taunted Jean. 'Bring it on. I'll show you why I was the ace of my regiment, _Captain_.'

 

 

 

 

 

The music from his world had drowned to a whimper of Enya. The mood had changed to a giddy quality since he’d left. People milled about in the celebrations, dropping by Isabel Magnolia to greet and make funny faces at Sol. He caught sight of Magnum leaving the premises, waving to the visitors and assuring his pals he'd be back in good time. Eren searched the sea of faces in amusement, and he was surprised to find the gypsy fortuneteller from the bazaar among the guests, the woman demanding money from an unsuspecting customer. Some unfortunate sap who'd sought out his future just like Eren.

_Crossroads in love._

Eren toweled his hair as he turned to Mikasa expectantly. He sat down on a bench, his smile dampened a little by the embarrassment he felt.

'Guess, this is the closest to privacy we're gonna get. So, what did you want to tell me?'

The reporter didn't beat about the bush.

'It's about your father,' she said point-blank.

As Mikasa had expected, Eren stiffened at the mere mention of his dad. The peacekeeper went rigid and sighed, looking up at the brightly lit paper lanterns that adorned the tent’s ceiling.

'I told you, Mikasa. I don't want anything to do with him.'

'Eren, please listen to me—'

'I don't need to,' the peacekeeper said, cutting her short. 'I don't want to hear a word about that bastard.'

Eren was surprised when Mikasa flinched at the word.

'Don't call our father that,' she said sharply.

There was a pause, and he pulled back from the reporter, letting the words register.

'Say what? Did you just call him _our_ father?' Eren repeated. 'OUR father?'

His eyes went wide in disbelief. Eren blinked furiously as he got to his feet, dropped the towel to the bench and looked at her in distaste.

'No, no, oh god no! Please don't tell me that he had a family on this side. Please don't tell me he married again and— and—' he peered at the dark-haired reporter, looking at her up and down, as if seeing her in a whole new light. 'Is that why he left us? Is that why he fuckin’ abandoned us—'

And then, Mikasa Ackerman did something extraordinary. She slapped him. Right on his face. Eren never saw it coming.

He clutched his bruised cheek and stared at her shell-shocked.

Their little spat, thankfully, went unnoticed by the crowd. Enya crooned on, and he could hear Sol's giggles.

Eren shot her a dirty look.

'Hey. What the hell did you slap me for?'

Mikasa gave him an apologetic smile and looked down at her offending hand in chagrin. 'Sorry, I am so sorry, Eren. I didn’t mean to hit you. You weren’t listening; you were jumping to conclusions. I just wanted to calm you down,' she said, her voice sounding careworn and sapped of energy. She looked remorseful. Now that he studied her in the light, Mikasa did look awfully tired. How far did she have to travel to get here?

Eren gauged her, jutting out his lower lip and rubbing his cheek in contempt. He couldn't stay angry with her though.  Not when she reminded him of his mum so much. As Mikasa made her apologies again, he couldn’t help feeling like he was speaking to Carla again.

'Look here,’ he began testily. ‘Just because you're my step sister, doesn't give you any right—'

'I'm not your step sister,' Mikasa corrected, smiling a bit. 'That's what I've been trying to tell you. Eren, I’m your _adopted_ sister. Your dad... he rescued me eleven years ago. I was born in Belemoth. I would have still been living there, living in the dumps, being sold into the dregs of prostitution or bodyshops...' she looked pained at the memory, '— if it wasn't for your dad.'

The brown-haired keeper watched her carefully, measuring her words in the silence. Mikasa fidgeted in her spot, looking over her shoulder nervously. She didn't seem to be making it up.

Mikasa resumed speaking.

'Grisha got me out, Eren. He got me educated and whatever I am today, it's thanks to him. I owe him everything.'

Eren stared at her, trying to wrap his mind around what she'd told him.

'Dad... rescued you? Really?'

The woman wearing the red scarf nodded weakly.

'Eren... he told me all about his past. And there's no denying that he opened the gates to hell. From your file, I can understand you haven't had a great life either. However,' she paused, looking at him earnestly. 'Everyone deserves a second chance, Eren. You of all people believe that, don't you?'

Eren snorted and wrung the water out of his Guns n Roses t-shirt, looking to her in contempt.

Feeling bitter all over again, the young man shook his head.

'I can forgive him for abandoning us. But I can't forgive him for his research or for the shitstorm he’s left behind,' Eren noticed the girl readying for an argument. 'No, Mikasa, you don't get it. You didn't see those people in the lab. I _did._ I saw them. And I have to live with what he's done. Those coffins... had my people,' he said, pressing a hand over his eyes and stifling the scream in his head. 'They were all people from MY world used as test subjects for experiments. I don't even know what for and how many got sacrificed in the long run. But I’m the one who has to live with what he has done. Those people died because of _him_.'

'Eren—'

The peacekeeper raised a hand, refusing to let her speak.

'No, don't try defending him. There is no excuse. There can be no excuse for it. Nothing can make up for it. Because the entire place, the entire research lab was fucking named after him. Named after _me. Jaeger-Lyndon!_ ' he threw his hands up in air and gave a mock laugh. 'Most dads leave their children— money, fame, an old car or somethin'. My dad?' the boy gave a bitter laugh here and snarled at the memory. 'He leaves me a fucking mortuary. Here son, that's your birthday present. A morgue. Take it, son! Be happy and prosper!'

'Eren,' said Mikasa, trying to calm him down. 'He repented. He changed when—'

'— when he realised how many people died?' Eren spat out in incredulity.

'He changed when he met your _mother_ ,' Mikasa finished, locking his gaze with her own. 'He changed when he met Carla. He loved her and grew to understand your world—'

Eren growled, refusing to believe any of it.

'You don't know squat about him or my mom. He ABANDONED us! Packed up and left—'

Mikasa caught his arm tightly.

'He loved you too,' she reiterated. 'Trust me on this. He was _always_ talking about you and Carla,' she said with a smile. 'He watched you from far, playing your bassball—'

A reluctant chuckle escaped Eren at this juncture.

'Shit, Mikasa, you're cute. It's baseball. Not bassball.'

Mikasa wrinkled her nose. She wasn't used to making mistakes, and it cut into her pride. She forced a smile nevertheless. 'Okay, whatever, baseball,' she corrected herself. 'He watched you play when he could, he watched you fight in the boxing ring, and all the other things you did. He was always talking about you. And don't hate me for this, but I sort of... _envied_ you.'

Eren studied her under the glow of the lanterns.

'What for? Why would anyone be jealous—'

'You were the legitimate child,' Mikasa exhorted him. 'I was just adopted, right?'

Eren looked at her, his gaze softening.

'You did?’

Mikasa nodded.

‘Why didn't you tell me before?' Eren chastised her. 'Hell, you should have told me when we first met.'

Mikasa sighed and shook her head firmly. 'Your dad made me promise I wouldn't. He didn't want to interfere in your life, you know. You looked happy the way you were. And Grisha knew that the State was keeping a close eye on you. It was too risky. Every move was risky.'

Eren reached for his key absentmindedly and ran his fingers over it, looking withdrawn.

'Did he really say all that?' he finally asked. ‘Did he really… love my mom? Us?’

Mikasa nodded and bit back a smile.

'Yes. And he needs your help now, please,' she implored him. 'They've incarcerated him in Utgard, Eren. They've put him in solitary confinement, at least that's what my sources tell me. The State has been hunting him for years. He is old now, and I don't know if he can bear it. But if he is alive, we must help him. His work isn’t finished yet.'

Eren released his hold on the key and dropped it back under his tee.

'Get him out of Utgard? The military fortress?' he asked with a snort. 'Do you realise what you're asking of me?'

Mikasa nodded again.

'That's not all. We need to help your mom too.'

Eren froze at the mention of his mother. He turned to her sharp, going a dreadful shade of pale. Old wounds seared, burning raw.

'Mom? Why mom?' he seethed.

The woman wearing the red scarf took a deep breath and squeezed his arm again, afraid to release him.

'Eren, the only people who knew your father's location were me and... Carla. The State didn't get to him through me. Which means,' she paused, leaving the words unsaid.

The peacekeeper pressed a hand over his eyes. He knew what she meant, and he inferred the worst.

'No... ' he trailed in dismay, pulling away from her. He shook his head as if trying to convince himself it wasn't true. 'They wouldn’t dare. She was sick. Mom was already _sick_.'

Mikasa nodded, feeling helpless; she was aware of Carla’s illness and wrapped an arm around Eren's wet shoulder. She tried to pacify the boy. It was a vain attempt for Eren was veering dangerously close to his trademark rage. The woman in the bomber jacket tried to keep him anchored. 'We don't know for sure. I’m just hypothesizing here. Please calm down—'

Their conversation was interrupted because Armin broke through the circle of guests, calling for the peacekeeper.

'Eren!' Armin shouted for him. The boy was breathless, looking visibly distressed and rattled when he reached Eren. 'You gotta stop them, Eren!'

The peacekeeper, who was already reeling with the news of his mother, turned to his friend distraught.

'Stop who?'

 

 

 

 

The storm had moved to higher plains, taking the rain with it. There was the remnant of thunder— a harrowing piece of sound that wrecked the land. The Titan grounds were still wet from the rains, and his sneakers sank into the mud when he emerged out of the Spiegeltent, walking fast towards the two men. At first, he didn't see them since the two combatants were covered head to toe in mud. Their movements had slowed but the men were still trying to one up the other and still trying to have the last word in their conversation, whatever the hell that conversation was about.

Jean lay breathless on the ground, bleeding from the corner of his lips and he turned to his side to cough out something hard. A tooth, he discovered with a sharp pain that traveled the length of his jaw.

He had done his share of the damage too for the Vigilante stood before him, a gloved hand pressed over his middle and back hunched over. But Jean had taken the worst of the fight— a fight which showed no signs of winding down.

Eren watched the Vigilante lean down and straddle the fallen soldier.

'What? Ran out of fuel already?' the man barked, letting out a hollow laugh. His hand latched on to a collar. 'Where's that spirit now? I thought you were going to throttle me... Lost your spunk?'

Jean's admirable answer was to spit at the man, coating the noble mask with his spit and blood.

'Coward,' he mouthed with a smirk and spat again. 'That's all you're gonna be.'

The Vigilante gave a low growl and pulled his gloved fingers into a fist.

But the punch never hit Jean because there was Eren, grabbing him by the shoulder and yanking the older man off his friend.

'Enough!' Eren snapped furiously at them. 'That's ENOUGH!'

The Vigilante pulled back, chest heaving, and the man looked at Eren, his body language betraying surprise. He watched as the boy knelt beside Jean and wrapping an arm around his friend, Eren tried helping Jean sit up.

Jean winced.

'Know what? Gimme a minute,' Jean said, flopping back on the ground again and groaned. 'I need to catch my breath. Ow!' he winced.

He looked at Eren and gave a ginger smile, putting on a bravado for the boy’s benefit, but Eren didn't share his sense of amusement. Eren turned to his best friend, who was standing a careful distance away.

'Jean's bleeding!' Eren told him. 'Get an icepack, Armin. Quick!'

Armin looked between him and the Vigilante, stalling for a long moment. At Eren's scowl, the boy gave a hesitant nod. 'Yeah, I'm on it!' the boy said, before taking off.

Eren was aware of Isabel, Farlan and some of the others emerging out of the party, wondering what the commotion was all about. They had heard him shouting and ventured out to investigate. Their mouths fell open when they caught the unsightly scene before them. Two men stained in mud, a third caught between them.

'You okay?' Eren asked Jean, trying to sound calm despite the wardrum thrumming in his head.

Jean detected the edge in his tone.

The ashbrown caught the boy's wrist, rubbing circles with the pad of his thumb to calm Eren down.

'Eren,' he said. 'I am alrigh—'

'He is fine,' the Vigilante answered for him. ‘He’ll live.'

It would have been in the Vigilante's best interests if the man hadn't spoken. Because at those words, Eren exploded like a dormant volcano.

'I didn't ask you, Captain,’ the boy hissed from his seat on the ground. ‘I didn't _fucking_ ask _you!'_

There was a silence at those words, a pained silence, and Eren turned to the bloody tooth lying on the ground. He turned hostile at the sight of the molar, fingers balling into fist. Everyone was struck shocked by the outburst. Even Jean, who sat up and tried to mollify his partner. But the peacekeeper's gaze remained fixed on the Vigilante. There was none of those old feelings— the confusion, the hyper-alertness or the ardor. There was just rage now in the wake of those old emotions. 

'You are unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable,' Eren muttered under his breath.

The man wearing the Rorschach mask shrugged.

'Aren't you even going to ask what the fight was about?' the Vigilante asked back.

Eren shook his head.

'I don't care. All I see is that you hit my _friend_ , you jerk.'

The Vigilante scorned him.

'A friend huh?’ the masked man let out a sardonic chuckle and let his laughter rumble. ‘Are you sure you two are on the same page on that? Maybe he thinks there is something more. Maybe... _you_ let him think there's something more.'

Eren gave the man a long, pained look. He stood up, walked over and caught the lapel to the trench coat.

'Say that again,' Eren hissed in a low voice. 'I dare you. Say that again!'

The two men stared at one another, sizing each other up in the thick silence that followed.

'You heard me,' the Vigilante breathed. ‘Loud and clear.’

'SAY. THAT. AGAIN,' Eren seethed, spitting out each word with a vengeance. 

The Vigilante said nothing.

At the other man's silence, Eren pulled his hands away like he'd burned his fingers and stepped back. He lowered his neck, the color slowly draining from his face. 'You've really got some nerve to talk to me like that. After telling me I don't belong here. After pushing me away a hundred times!'

The masked man watched him steady.

'You like him? Is that... it?' the Vigilante asked.

Eren gritted his teeth, rubbing a hand over his face in anguish.

'Of course, I LIKE Jean,’ he said, dropping his hand and looking up at that hideous mask of the other man. ‘And who the hell are _you_ to ask me that? What is it between us? I am just a nobody, right? A nobody who isn't worth your time or your space!'

'Eren?' Isabel called from her place beside Farlan. 'Eren, calm down—'

He didn't turn to her, keeping his eyes fixed on the Rorschach mask. The face of his childhood hero. Not anymore. And he vowed to never look at it the same way again. The peacekeeper’s face hardened. 'No, I’m not going to calm down. I am TIRED of people telling me to calm down,' he snapped, his attention never wavering from the Vigilante's. ‘I’m tired of the lies. Everyone’s lies.’

The keeper's gaze darted around from one face to another, reading the guilt on all their faces.

'Shit, I don't need this right now,’ he said, sounding pissed with himself. ‘My dad is in prison. My mom's hurt. And I'm wasting time here, chasing after someone who doesn't even _need_ me.'

Eren looked at the man donning the inkblot mask.

'I tried, you get me?' he began in spite, flicking a hand between the two of them. 'I tried to understand you, I tried to make sense of whatever the hell you're doing here. I respected your friends, Captain; I wanted to help _your_ people, _your_ crusade, but what did you do in return? You called my friends _names_ , you treated them like _trash_. And they put up with it. They put up with it for _me_.'

Eren turned quiet and cast a painful glance at Jean before forcing himself to look towards the Masked Vigilante again, to the man who refused to accept him despite everything he’d done to get this far. 'It's okay if you tell me I don't belong here. It's okay if I’m just a nobody to you. It's okay... if I don’t have a place beside you. But if you attack my _friend—'_ Eren stepped back, his voice dropping low and staying dangerously firm. His lips trembled, and his heart felt constricted, like it was being squeezed to a pulp. Eren swallowed hard, making up his resolve. 'Then, it's over. You hear me? It’s OVER! There is nothing for me here.'

Eren lifted his right hand and with a grunt, he slipped off his ring. Without sparing even a glance at it, he flung the ring at the masked man. The silver band struck the trench coat and rebounded into the mud. It lay there soiled and motionless, a pitiful thing, just like Eren.

The peacekeeper gave a brittle laugh, a laugh that nearly choked him on its way out of his throat.

'I am done,’ he announced. ‘I am so done. Fuck you, sweetheart. This boomerang... is done chasing after you.'

Having said those words, he turned his back to the man and left. Sweeping past everyone, he walked towards a dark-haired woman waiting for him in the wings.

'Come on, Mikasa,' he said to her in a tremulous voice. 'Let's go find dad.'

 

 

_And what you thought you came for,_

_Is only a shell, a husk of meaning_

_From which the purpose breaks only_

_When it is fulfilled if at all_

_Either you had no purpose_

_Or the purpose is beyond the end_

_You figured._

T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets

 

 

 

Mikasa led him to her TJ in an abandoned hangar stationed two blocks away. She kicked the rusty shutters open and there was the familiar TJ780, a beauty to behold even in the shadows. He wished he could appreciate the gorgeous specimen, its tailbird and those ailerons again. But he wasn’t feeling it. Eren watched as Mikasa fished her keys out, climbed over the wing and got into the cockpit. She revved the engine and pulled the aircraft out into the open. Eren followed her and climbing over, he took his seat on the passenger side.

Mikasa flicked the knobs on the dashboard, switching on the radar, the comm. and changed the destination coordinates from Maria to Utgard.

She turned to Eren and found his face hidden by the mast of messy brown hair.

'You... sure you want to leave like this?' she asked one last time.

She had seen what had transpired at the back of the spiegeltent. She didn't understand what had happened... but she was willing to try. For Eren.

The young man remained oddly quiet as he looked out the window.

'Eren,' she called. 'What's wrong?'

Mikasa reached out to brush away the hair, to turn his face towards hers. And when that curtain of messy brown strands was removed, and she saw his face in entirety, she garnered why he wasn't speaking a word.

Eren was looking at the windshield, staring blankly ahead. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes, and his lips were trembling. So were his hands.

Was this same guy who'd said 'Fuck you' to the most dangerous man hounding the State?

Mikasa unstrapped her seatbelt and climbed out of the cockpit.

'I'll get you something to drink. Hold on.'

'It's fine,' said Eren, calling after her. 'I don't need anything. Let's… go. The sooner, the better.'

Mikasa pursed her lips and shook her head.

'Just give me a minute.'

Eren didn't say anything as she left.

His tears flowed unrestrained in the absence of company. He wished he had met Krobe once before storming out of the celebrations. He swiped a hand at his face sloppily, hating himself for his brashness.

What was he even crying for?

It was over.

This mission... this wild goose chase had come to a finish at long last. He had found the man he was looking for and lost his husband along the way. He'd cut those ties and he was finally free. Liberated. And yet, the tears wouldn't stop flowing. And yet, his right hand felt painfully numb, like it was missing something already. The skin around his ring finger was sunk, the impression of the band reminding him of what he'd just thrown away. He pulled the pressure mask out from his seat and strapped it to his face, hoping to hide the stinging tears.

He heard the shuffle of footsteps, and Mikasa sat down in her seat again. He should have paid attention to how the woman didn't buckle her seat belt. Or how she didn't hand him the drink she had offered to get. Or how... there was someone calling his name.

As the TJ pulled out of the curb, the engine revved again and wings extended in elegance, preparing for launch into Titan's sky.

And there was that voice calling him again. Try as he might, he couldn't ignore it.

'EREN! EREN!'

The peacekeeper turned to look outside his window.

Through his tear-stricken vision, he spotted Mikasa on the ground, holding a can of beverage in her hand and bracing herself against the blast of wind from the aircraft.

His eyes widened.

What was she doing outside when—

He turned to the pilot and sure enough, the Vigilante sat in the seat, manoeuvring the TJ's console for take-off. The man turned to him briefly, and Eren saw the ink blot pattern change.

'What are you doing?' the younger demanded in panic. 'What the _fuck_ do you think you are doing?'

The Vigilante's voice showed the hint of a smile.

'Kidnapping you. Again.'

'WHAT?'

The man didn't stop to explain. As usual.

'Hang on tight, sharkbait. It's a long way to Utgard.'

 

* * *

 


	77. Tantrum

 

Chapter-77- Tantrum

~.~

 

On an arid plateau of Titan, a tall, concrete tower rose like a beacon of light from a clump of boulders. The air traffic control room of Zone Meridian 6A (which was its official name, though lesser beings called it _The Rock Bottom_ ) was situated a hundred miles west of Maria and a hundred and twenty from Trost, and it was having yet another slow day. Nothing ever happened in _The Rock Bottom_. Its operators Digby and his subordinate Francis assumed they'd worked it all out. How to kill boredom. They were supposed to be working in shifts but had grudgingly chosen each other's company over solitude. They played cards. They played the banjo. And when they weren’t playing cards or the banjo, the two cracked jokes about the birds roosting outside their control room. Theirs was an uncanny friendship struck months ago, when the two Titans had been transferred (read 'demoted') from previous stations on charges of loitering and money laundering, grievous offences by State standards. Their pay was docked but by some mercy of Mael, they were allowed to stick on. Although transfer to Zone Meridian 6A was a euphemism for 'Haha-there-goes-your-career-nosediving-to-oblivion-Enjoy-the-vacation-bitches'.

And so…

Digby and Francis were now stuck here in the middle of nowhere, watching Juggernaut Wingtails bicker outside their window. If their day got any luckier, they even managed to tune into their favorite soap opera— 'Desperate Husbands'.

This was their daily bread, their daily routine.

Today, however, something extraordinary happened.

For the first time in ages, they received an inbound transmission from a TJ. An emergency call for assistance. As soon as Digby switched the speakers on, an incensed voice burst through the silence, letting loose a howl of static; the voice that spoke next was the voice of a young man in audible distress.

'Control room, do you read me? Do you copy?'

'Put that down. Don't be a brat,' a second voice spoke up, this one sounding gruff and a tad annoyed unlike the first.

The two men of the ATC looked at each other, stunned. Their day had gone from being 'quiet' to 'happening' and neither of the men was prepared for the challenge. Francis was the first to break out of his reverie. He picked up his microphone and tapped it.

'Affirmative, we copy. This is Air Traffic Control room of Meridian 6A. Tell us your issue, ranger. Fuel trouble? Engine block? Dead bird caught in the propeller? What kinda trouble are we looking at?'

The voice turned agitated.

'No, none of that. I…I am in a stolen TJ780, and I have been kidnapped by a masked FREAK—'

'— your husband,' corrected the other voice, still calm.

'You're NOT my husband!'

'Yes, I am.'

'IT'S OVER. You hear me? What trick are you trying to pull here? We're history. There is nothing to salvage here. Hasta la vista, adios, goodbye!'

'By law of this world, I’m still your—'

'Wow. I’ll try to put this as nicely as I can. But in case I haven’t been clear enough… fuck you. Fuck your law and fuck your WORLD!'

Francis looked at Digby, his expression perplexed. He squinted his eyes, his head hurting from all the shouting and cursing on the satellite link.

The young man's attention returned to them, and he addressed the Air Traffic Control room again, apologizing for the distraction. 'Sorry about that. As you can hear, this TJ has been hijacked and I’ve been kidnapped by a freak, no wait— correction, an _insufferable_ prick—' the young man emphasized, voice sounding immensely bitter and rankled before he resumed, '— so I'd be really _really_ grateful if you could send someone to pick me up.'

Francis tapped the microphone.

'Uh, TJ780, can you relay your coordinates, so we can boost this distress call to Central?'

'Yeah, hold on. My coordinates are—'

The young man had barely started to read his location off the radar when there was a disturbance. The speakers inside Air Traffic Control room screeched, erupting with the sound of something being ripped. There was the blast of static, and the line went dead. Completely dead.

'Uh, TJ780?' Francis called out meekly.

No answer.

'Yoohoo…? TJ780? Do you read me?'

Silence met their ears.

Francis glanced at Digby, looking baffled.

'What the hell was that all about?'

The senior controller shrugged and making a grab for the remote, he went back to watching the telescreen.

'Must be pranksters,' Digby remarked, bringing a half-smoked cigarette to his lips. He took a long, lethargic draw of his fix and shrugged. 'Forget 'bout it. Come, watch the show. Seems like Emanuel finally called off the marriage with Lupin. Things just got spicy.'

 

 

 

 

 

Eren could only watch on stupefied as a gloved hand made a grab for the radio equipment. The masked man pulled out the comm. by its mouthpiece; the wires came apart, snapping like a twig in autumn and so did the circuitry behind it. The speakers were yanked out next with a violent tug, leaving behind a gaping hole where the radio had once been. The Vigilante slapped a switch on the dashboard; the cockpit glass screeched in answer, splitting open wide enough for him to toss the radio out. The winds rushed in through the crack of glass, whipping through the confined space, shrieking and howling in their ears. Eren looked out his window aghast, as the comm. fell spiraling into the depths below, whistling as it sank below the level of clouds.

Great.

There went his last means to getting rescued.

When the glass to the cockpit sealed shut and the pressure stabilized again, the gravity of his circumstance hit Eren. The peacekeeper turned to the Masked Vigilante, disbelief etched in every feature of his. He threw up his hands in air and stared at the other man in bewilderment.

A guttural roar left him. 'WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?' he yelled over the rumble of the engine.

The Vigilante remained silent, his attention fixed determinedly on flying the aircraft.

When no answers seemed forthcoming from his captor, Eren decided he’d had enough. Limbering up shoulders and neck, Eren took off his pressure mask and tossed it to the floor of the TJ. He lifted a knee next and kicked the underside of the dashboard. He knew he shouldn't be abusing Mikasa's aircraft, but he wanted ‘out’, and he was hell bent on getting it.  

Eren earned Levi’s attention soon enough.

'Stop that,’ came the reprimand.

Eren stopped kicking long enough to jab a finger at the mask.

'Turn back right now. I don't want to go anywhere with you. You hear me?'

'You don't have a choice.’

Eren looked at the man in frustration.

'Yes, I do,' Eren said and realised he was yelling again. ‘Mikasa was going to take me to Utgard, and you stole her vehicle. This is grand auto theft, that’s what this is.’

There was a chuckle from behind the shroud. ‘I’ve done worse,’ the man admitted.

‘You don't give a damn about anybody, do you? Park this TJ NOW!'

'I won't.'

Eren growled and kicked the dashboard again.

'LET ME OUT. LET. ME. OUT!' he demanded, voice rising in volume and accentuating every word with a hit to the vehicle.

The Vigilante kept his voice level when he spoke next. The man raised a gloved hand and motioned to the clouds around them. 'We're twenty thousand feet up in the air, ignoramus. You want me to let you out here? Think well before you answer.'

Eren fumed, glaring daggers at the inkblot mask.

'You know what I mean.'

The Vigilante shook his head and gave a deep, weighted sigh.

'Tell me, Eren. How were you and that paparazzi queen planning on doing this? Utgard is a bastion; no one has managed to break in or break out. What were you going to do, kid? Go up to the big ass doors and ask for your daddy to be let out?'

Eren dropped his knee and looked out the windshield, staring off at nothing.

'Don't patronize me. Mikasa and I… would have figured out something.'

The masked man chuckled.

'I’m sure you would have. It’s the same old case of Good Initiative, Bad Judgement with you. You can’t bank on spirit alone to get the job done, Eren. Not anymore. Besides—' the man's modulated voice dropped a notch. He paused, reconsidered his words, and the fake voice was soft when it resumed speaking again, '—Besides I thought you'd be happy to see me.'

Eren stared openly, his mouth going slack.

'Yeah right. Trust me; I'm really not happy about this,’ the peacekeeper vowed, pulling back and tried to create space between them. ‘I don't want to look at you, Captain. I don't want to hear you speak. I don't even want to _breathe_ the same air you do. I just want to rescue my crazy old man, grab my friends and go home. You hear me? GO HOME! Go home to my world, Levi. Just the way you always wanted me to.'

The Vigilante turned to Eren, regarding him.

There was a deliberate pause as the mask appraised Eren.

‘How long have you known?’

Eren curled his lips and refused to answer the question.

'Fine,’ the masked man said. ‘You want to go home? That can be arranged. But you're not leaving until you hear me out.'

Eren gawked at him, infuriated.

'Hear you out?' the boy repeated, turning aghast. _'NOW_ you feel like explaining this entire charade to me?' Eren gaped, his mouth opening and closing. 'Wow,’ he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘That's nice. Sweet. But hey, why should I even listen to you,' Eren ranted, bringing up a hand and gesturing between them wildly. 'I mean. Who the hell are you? What am I to you? What the heck is it between us?'

'I am—'

Eren let out a visceral growl.

'No, don't you say it! Don't you dare fucking say it! You're not my husband. The last I checked that guy died in a jet crash. And know what? The asshole deserved it too,' Eren added with vengeance, biting into his lower lip, unafraid of bruising it. 'I hope that guy rots in hell. I hope he drowns in a cauldron of burning fires, reserved just for him.'

With that final outburst, Eren turned to the windshield and drew himself small, folding into a tight ball. The peacekeeper crossed his arms and seethed under his breath.

'So… you're still angry,' the masked man paraphrased.

Eren rolled his eyes.

'Gee, what gave you that idea?’ Eren remarked, sounding every bit snippy. ‘The part about you drowning in a cauldron of hell fire or the fact that I am _screaming_ my head off? Or that you KIDNAPPED me in order to make me listen to you?'

There was a smile in the other man's voice. Amusement. Great, here was Eren, blowing his lid off and Levi had the audacity to find the situation hilarious.

'What's so funny?' the peacekeeper demanded.

'Admit it, Eren. You like being kidnapped. Goes right up your alley.'

'I. Do. Not,' said Eren, giving another violent kick at the gear box. The TJ wobbled in midair, and even Eren stilled in surprise.

'Watch it,' the Vigilante warned. 'And I see that you're back to your rebellious years, brat.'

Eren scowled at the nickname.

'You know, you need to make up your mind about what you wanna call me. Is it nobody? Or is it a brat, a kid, an imbecile, a moron? Someone who needs to be constantly watched over? Or worse, an Earthborn to be used like a fucktoy and discarded whenever you feel like it. Pick one, Captain. And for Christ sake, _stick_ to it!'

There was a tense silence.

After what seemed like an eternity, the inkblot face turned towards Eren, regarding him in the light of dusk.

'None of that,’ the man said. ‘You're Eren, my better half,' he answered solemnly.

The peacekeeper wanted to launch into another violent struggle, to kick up another storm, except he couldn't. Rendered into silence by those words, he blinked twice and forced himself to turn away. He looked outside the window at the passing brown plains below them. The young man felt the familiar sting of tears, forming in the corner of his eyes.

'As if,' he rued into the silence and pressed a hand to his face. 'There was no 'us' in the first place, remember?'

 

 

 

 

 

The bass speakers were belting out John Coltrane's Blue Train. Not many noticed the disappearance of the 'Captain' except for a choice few. The party and dance music remained in full swing, undeterred by the loss of its chaplains. Though the music kept its addictive beat, Jean Kirstein didn't join in this time. Running a hand through his hair, he studied his mud-stained clothes. His body ached black and blue in places he didn’t even know existed. Jean was nursing a nasty bruise on his elbow while Armin held an ice pack to his jaw, looking sorry on his behalf.

'How are you feeling? Any better?' the blond asked.

It struck Jean how Armin… made a pretty good nurse. Sure, the shorty was a little conceited, a megalomaniac genius, but he wasn’t too bad. Jean ruminated, beginning to wonder why exactly Armin had never figured in his list of possible paramours. The blond had brains, a shrewd eye, a nutty sense of humor, and he had no inhibitions about running away from trouble. Qualities that Jean Kirstein deemed noble and practical in the eye of danger.

Armin threw him a dirty look.

'Okay, pal. Whatever you're thinking right now, stop it,' said Armin. ‘So not gonna happen.’

Yep. This is exactly why.

Kid could practically read his mind.

Armin cast him a disparaging glance. 'Nice going, by the way. Ratting out the truth to Eren like that. You could have done it with a bit more _tact_ , you know,' said Armin, clicking his tongue under his breath.

Jean growled and shook his head.

'— wasn’t me. I didn't reveal the creep's identity to anybody. It wasn’t me, I swear.'

Armin gave the tall boy a quizzical look.

'Wait. If it wasn't you and if it wasn't me—'

The two boys turned to Marco Bott, who stood leaning against a post of the tent. The freckled Titan shrugged when he found himself the centerpiece of their attention.

'I’m sorry, my friends. But I didn't tell Eren either.'

Jean considered the other man carefully.

'Wait, hold on. Who told YOU in the first place?'

Marco smiled and rubbed his nose, his lips curling into a humble smile. 'I confess… I figured it out on the day we landed at the inn. When the Captain interrogated me.'

At their stunned faces, the freckled man smiled.

'Look, I’m a PeaceCorp. I've worked under him and Commander Smith. It's hard not to notice the similarities.'

Jean and Armin exchanged a glance. They were both thinking the same thing. If Marco could discover the man's identity, why the hell did Eren take this long to figure it out?

Their debate was cut short when a hush fell over the crowd surrounding them. Mikasa had arrived in the Spiegeltent, forking her way through the crowd, her eyes blazing fire. Before Armin could ask her what happened, the young woman grabbed his arm and dragged him aside, her fingers clutching Armin's elbow like sharp pincers.

'Whoa, whoa, watch it lady,' Armin bleated and tried to free himself.

'Where is he?’ she demanded. ‘Where’s your second in command?'

'My what?'

'I need to talk to whoever is in charge here. Your Captain just kidnapped Eren.'

Armin gaped at her.

'You mean you _lost_ Eren?'

Mikasa rolled her eyes.

'I didn't lose Eren. Your captain stole him… and he stole my ship too.'

Her gaze swept from Armin to Jean. She looked at both of them, expecting one of the boys to throw up the offer for a ride. Armin narrowed his gaze and turned her down. 'Hey. Don't look at me,' said the blond. 'The only ride I've got is that horse over there.'

'Hey!' Jean cut in, looking up sharply. 'Enough with the horse jokes.'

Mikasa turned to the ashbrown young man, as if noticing him for the first time. She edged towards him, pointing a finger at him accusatively.

'You're the one, right?'

'The one?' Jean Kirstein repeated, bruised face and hazel eyes lighting up in interest. 'Like Neo in the Matrix? Or like the one… for you? I’m honored, but let’s take it a little slow. How about a date first—'

Mikasa ignored his attempts to flirt.

'The one who _kissed_ my brother,' she deadpanned.

Silence filled the air, the music and laughter of the Spiegeltent receded to the background in light of this revelation. Isabel who'd been watching this interaction in faint amusement, looked at Jean affronted. She dragged herself over into the conversation.

 _'Mierda_. Grumpy did what?'

Jean turned intimidated in the circle of Amazon women. Isabel had her arms folded, and she was glowering at him. Mikasa mirrored the same expression, looking like an angry goddess in her bomber jacket.

The innkeeper made a low hum at the back of her throat.

'No wonder _hermano_ was livid with you, Grumpy. You really did it this time. Couldn't keep it in your pants, could you?'

Armin dropped the ice pack onto Jean's groin and backed away, feeling satisfied with the yelp he heard from the injured man.

'Yep,' the saint announced, agreeing with the alpha females. 'You totally deserved getting your arse kicked.'

 

 

 

 

An hour had passed. Not without the usual barrage of insults and demands to be freed. Eren soon lost the stamina to fight. The peacekeeper flopped back against his seat, looking dejected and withdrawn. He resorted to gazing outside the window with his forehead pressed to the glass, staring out vacantly.

There was a stretch of silence… before he moved again.

Despite traveling at a lower, stable altitude, Eren picked up his visor helmet again. He placed the mask over his nose and sunk deeper into his seat, leaning away from Levi.

'You don't need that,' the older man remarked.

Eren didn't reply.

The Vigilante passed a furtive look at Eren.

The troublemaker's silence didn’t bode well.

When he saw the younger's shoulders quiver, his suspicions turned true. He watched as the tanned fingers of the peacekeeper's left hand clenched into a tight fist, pressed over one knee. The boy was crying again, no doubt. Levi knew the signs, and he also recognized Eren's attempt to hide them. The Vigilante took one gloved hand off the console, reaching out for Eren's fist… but the young man flinched and edged away.

'Touch me, and I'll fucking snap your fingers into two, I swear to God.’

The gloved hand hung in midair, the inkblot face paused to reconsider. The masked man pulled back his arm wordlessly.

A long, pensive silence filled the space between them, and Eren wondered if he'd been too harsh.

He heard the man shuffle around his coat until the gloved hand was back, this time holding out a bread roll. A measly looking squashed bread roll held between sheathed fingers.

'You must be hungry. Take it,' came the low voice.

Eren stared at the bread roll through his visor glass. It was true. He was indeed starving, and his stomach grumbled at the mere sight of food. But his pride held him back. Eren shook his head and averted his gaze from the offering.

'I don't want it,' he said.

The Vigilante took in a sharp breath, trying to be tolerant. 'You're throwing a tantrum like a child. Quit being stubborn and take it,' he reasoned.

'A child,' Eren echoed scathingly. 'That's all I am, aren't I? Your goddam ward!'

'Eren, don't try my patience.'

'I said I don't want your food.'

'Give me one good reason—'

Eren let out a hoarse chuckle.

'You wanna know why? Because it's filthy. Just like you, sir.'

The Vigilante drew his hand back with a hiss.

'Fine. Starve yourself to death.'

 

 

 

 

In the bazaar of Maria, a man who'd newly entered fatherhood was loading crates into the back of his truck. He paid a few hundred quid to the shop keeper Olimsey and having checked the freight, he jogged over to the driver’s side and pulled the door open. But before he could take a seat, someone tapped his shoulder, stopping him short. Magnum found two men in uniform crowded around him.

'Yes, gentlemen. May I help you?' he asked, feigning politeness.

'Are you Magnum?'

The man with the dreadlocks glanced at the officers. He shot them a placid look, a look which he hoped didn't give away his uneasiness.

'Whatever you think I did, I didn't do it, gentlemen.'

One of the officers guffawed loudly and reached into his pocket to pull out a totem. When he flicked a switch on it, the device let out a projection. It was the image of someone familiar.

 

Eren Jaeger

 

In the mugshot, the peacekeeper was wearing his cadet uniform and smiling at the camera. A file photo.

The officers gestured towards the projection. 

'Have you seen this guy? Do you know anything about his whereabouts?'

Magnum looked hard at the image, as if trying to place the face among the countless ones he knew. The man with the dreadlocks hummed and smiled genially at the duo before shaking his head. 

'Sorry, fellas. Nope, never seen him,' he told them.

There was the sound of heavy boots on concrete. Magnum saw a hooded figure appear around the truck. Moloch drew his cape back as he walked over to them, oddly at peace in the company of the Military Police.

At the man's appearance, Magnum felt dread pool in the pit of his stomach. His smile waned, and he stared at the eel, unable to contain the wrath from his face.

'You sure, Maggie?' the man grabbed the totem from the officers and held it out in his prosthetic arm. Eren's image flickered ever so lightly. 'You might want to think hard on that one, comrade. Perhaps we ought to _persuade_ you,' said Moloch.

 

 

 

 

The winds howled outside, dragging dirt and debris in their path as they rolled through the barren terrain of Titan. The Vigilante was forced to park the TJ in a dry ravine off a plateau. The land was arid, without a trickle of vegetation growing. He killed the engine and listened to the rampage of nature outside.

Brown.

Everywhere he looked… it was a mix of brown and red soil.

He turned to the younger man beside him. Eren was slouched against the glass, the visor helmet sitting in his lap. Eren's eyes were clasped shut, a wrinkle in his forehead, but his shoulders were unguarded. Gone was the tension, the anger.

Eren Jaeger was sleep.

He’d cried himself to sleep.

What sort of a twenty-three-year-old still cried himself to sleep, Levi wondered. He studied the young man's features before smiling at the forlorn thought.

From the way Eren's eyebrows were furrowed, the peacekeeper was probably dreaming.

Was it a good dream? Or a nightmare?

How many times had Levi lived this moment? To be honest, Levi lost track. Too many years, too many treasured memories interspaced between them. And the knowledge always weighed him down. But even this small grace of watching Eren sleep would be lost very soon. Levi wouldn't be able to hear the troublemaker mumble about pizza in his sleep. Complain about vigils, his duties or college. Nor would Levi be able to reach over and sweep the boy’s hair from his eyes. Neither would he be able to trace those tanned fingers and lace them in his own.

He let out a scoff. He was prepared. He’d been preparing himself for a long time already. But time was not on his side. Nor was fate. These stolen moments were all that he had. Paying no attention to the howls of the dust storm outside, he reached for the sun-beaten hand sitting innocuous on a knee.

But before his gloved fingers could touch Eren’s hand, the peacekeeper stirred.

Just barely.

But enough to utter a single word.

'Mom,' he mumbled in his sleep.

The Masked Vigilante stilled. He drew his hand back and let it fall back against the TJ's console. Looking out the window, he forced himself to wait out the dust storm raging outside, albeit with a heavy heart.

 

 

* * *

 


	78. Bite

 

 

 

 

Chapter-78- Bite

~.~

 

 

Eren dreamed.

He kept his eyes closed in his dreams. Occasionally, he’d open them and see a corridor. The grey corridor of his subconscious. He was alone this time. There was no sign of the Masked Vigilante. No sign of Levi. Anyone.

He could hear the distant echoes of thunder, as if there was a storm raging in a land far away. In the solitude of his mind, the young man assured himself that he was safe. Yes, his muddled head— filled with doubts and questions— remained the only place he could ever feel peaceful. Nothing could hurt him here. No lies, deception, no monsters or ghosts to haunt him in this place. Yes, for here, he was irrevocably safe in his own company. Earth’s soldier deserted on his island of memories. But was staying here a coward's answer to his problems? Was he running away again? Be brave, stay foolish, Eren said under his breath, giving himself a pep talk. _Be brave, stay foolish._

If only it were that easy.

The peacekeeper gripped his upper arms and reclined his head against Door Twenty. From twelve to sixteen. From sixteen to twenty. What new memories did he imbibe through this journey to Titan?

The Vigilante's kiss in the interstellar tunnel?

The dance-off with Jean at Sol's party? Fulfilling Jean’s bucket list.

Was it getting Krobe back? Or was it the game of catch in a backyard?

And the second heartbreak that came with it.

He was afraid to seek out the answers. Much to his surprise, the answers came looking for him instead.

There was a knock, and Eren jumped at the sound.

Sitting up alert, Eren looked down the corridor, straining to locate the source. Knuckles rapped against a door again, urging him to come forward. Eren got to his feet gingerly and walked down the grey aisle. He traced the sound to what was possibly the seventeenth door. There was the knock again from the other side, summoning him— asking him to open the door, to answer their call. Eren felt chills. His heart pounded in his chest, hammering away; and he felt the pulse right down to his fingertips.

This was beyond... strange.

In all the times that he'd escaped to this prison of his subconscious, never had any memory called out to him.

Why now? Who was on the other side?

Eren clasped the knob and with trepidation, he turned it.

The door swung back with a loud creak. Sunlight flooded in through a French window, and he recognised the place instantly.

It was his room back on Earth. A teenager’s room in the suburbs of Sylvan.

The house where he grew up, the house his mother had mortgaged and lost to bankers five years ago. The image was well preserved. Everything looked exactly the same as he remembered it. Comic books littered the floor; a comforter lay tossed to the ground. There was the poster of Metallica on the wall, figurines of Wolverine and Venom sat on his desk; he spotted the Lord of the Rings box set, his birthday gift from Armin. There were his school projects too— the replica of the solar system hung from the ceiling— Jupiter lopsided, poor Saturn missing, and in the middle of this 'Smells like Teenage Spirit' bedroom, stood his mother— Carla Jaeger.

The peacekeeper smiled in relief. Her long hair plaited neatly over a shoulder and that dimpled smile lighting up at the mere sight of him... there could be no doubt about it. Yes, this was his mother alright.

'Hey mom,' greeted Eren with a teary smile.

Carla Jaeger beamed radiant, and Eren found it easy to forget that she was a mere figment of the past.

The woman strode forward, closing the gap between them, and drew her son into a tight hug. She clasped his face in her hands and nuzzled his greasy nose with hers.

'You're in trouble again, aren't you?' she teased him.

There was a twinkle in her eyes.

Eren smiled at his mother.

'I am trying hard to be good, I swear.'

'Oh— is that so?'

It figured she didn’t believe him. He was quiet for a long moment before he asked the question on his mind.

'What're you doing here, mom?'

‘Weren’t you the one who called for me?’

Eren shook his head.

Carla hummed and introspected, running a hand over his head. She tried to straighten his messy hair, tried to make him look more presentable to the outside world.

'You don’t depend on me anymore. You’re all grown up... That scares me. Please don't forget me like your father did.’

The young man stared at her.

'I won't.'

Carla felt comforted by his words.

'You remember your promise?'

Eren nodded.

‘Yeah, I do.’

There was a heavy silence, and Carla Jaeger let her head rest on his strong-willed shoulder.

'Eren,' she murmured into the silence, squeezing his hand in hers. ‘Don’t spend time here. This isn’t living.’

He didn't answer her. Instead, the brunet buried his nose against her ear and basked in the scent of his mother's hair. Nostalgia hit him. The smell of cinnamon and spices, which always reminded him of home and all the things he'd lost over the years. He remembered the anger in his teenage years, those fits he'd thrown while growing up; he remembered the arguments over being too young to get a driver's license, his lethargy at doing school work and his unexplained disappearances. None of it mattered anymore. All that he wished now… was to go back in time and relive each moment. And set them right.

Pay attention.

But that was the trouble with life. It never gave you a do-over.

Carla called his name again.

'Before you go, I have something to tell you. Eren, are you listening?'

'Yeah... I am. What is it?'

There was a heavy pause before she spoke.

'Forgive him,' she whispered.

Eren froze between her arms. His head went still, and a crease formed between his eyebrows.

'Forgive who?”

And his mother began to recite those time-honored words again.

'Love is patient, love is kind... It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs,' she paused and pulled at his earlobe, still smiling. 'It keeps no record of wrongs, do you understand, Eren?'

The young man inhaled deeply and tilted his head to meet her eyes.

He wished he could say ‘yes’. But it was a struggle.

Carla Jaeger pulled back and standing on her toes, she pressed a kiss to the crown of his brown head.

'Stay safe. Don’t do anything reckless.'

He wanted to ask her how she knew. Or what she was doing here in the first place. But there was the roar of thunder, and Eren Jaeger woke up with a start. His eyes darted around in panic as he tried to reconnect with reality. Eren found himself sitting in the cockpit of a TJ, the steady pitter- patter of rain hitting the aircraft. Water streamed down the glass of his window and down the windshield. The air was thick, hot with humidity, and Eren passed a fleeting glance at the pilot's spot.

The seat was empty... save for a mud stained trench coat left hanging over the console.

Where—

Panicking again, Eren flicked a switch on the dashboard, turning on the wipers and the headlights. When the condensation and the water from the glass cleared, the young man looked down the nose of the aircraft. Finally, he spotted a figure on the swampy brown terrain of Titan. A familiar figure.

The Vigilante stood under the overcast sky. The back of his white shirt was drenched, but the man didn’t look to be in any sort of discomfort. But there was indeed... something wrong with him.

The Vigilante moved haphazardly, taking slow steps from left to right. And back again.

It occurred to Eren that the man was attempting to... dance.

The masked man in civilian clothes had his arms raised, sleeves rolled to the elbows.

And here, with no one around to see him, he swayed his body. It was a strange, staggered movement. Like staccato in an opera. Eren blinked before rubbing his eyes twice.

Yeah. There was no doubt about it.

The man was dancing in the rain.

Or trying to dance and failing miserably at it.

The peacekeeper leaned forward across the dashboard. Eren folded his arms and perched his head over an elbow. In the relentless beat of the rain, he watched the Vigilante's attempt at mimicking what were undoubtedly... Jean's moves. The Vigilante didn't have Jean's suaveness or swagger. He couldn't do Jean's complicated jives and turns either. But the man tried. He tried and failed. And in his failures and mistakes, Eren realised just how human this man was.

Eren pressed a hand to his mouth, stifling the twitch in his mouth. It was a reluctant smile, and he hated himself for letting the man get to him. After all, Eren was supposed to be angry, supposed to have stormed off, slammed the door shut and never looked back. Yet here he was, barely able to contain a smile. What was so amusing anyway? Because this was his guardian dancing with his two left feet. Or the fact that this was the Masked Vigilante, fearsome lord of the subpar. Or could it be for his disciplinarian husband— Rivaille Levi.

In the end, it didn't matter.

The peacekeeper was angry with the man, yes. But there was no denying the fact that Eren had grown to love... all three sides of Levi. And nothing hurt as much as letting go.

 

 

 

 

When the storm subsided, they were back in the air. The sky was quiet and dark. There was no thunder, no wind, no rain. It was unsettling how the storm seemed to be following at their tail. Soon, they left the cover of darkness and flew into the first light of daybreak. Titan’s dawn caught them unawares; light from the dying sun illumined the land. They’d gone without food for hours, and the Vigilante decided to make a quick pit stop at Delphi's, a fly-in diner that Mikasa’s on-board GPS picked up en route. Eren, who tried to look as inconspicuous as he could in his earth clothes, scanned the large menu board, caught between choosing Broiled Juggernaut, Crab with Chili Pepper or Veal Cutlet with Icuan Dip. The only thing familiar to him was the last one. So, he went with veal and paid for the food with the Captain’s money.

The masked man was waiting for him beside the grounded vehicle.

‘Hey,' Eren called, raising his handcuffs and rattling them for emphasis. 'Seriously, this is demeaning. Take these off. I’m not going to run away. People were giving me odd looks at the diner.’

The Vigilante considered his request.

'It’s for your own safety. If you haven't noticed, Eren, you attract trouble like a magnet.'

Eren raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

'Har, har. Says the guy who ranks _first_ on the State's Wanted List,' he commented. 'You're worse than me.'

The Vigilante didn’t contest it. He walked over to Eren and caught the boy's wrists. The man’s gloved hand slid over his own as Eren watched him unlock the handcuffs. All this while keeping his inkblot face fixed on Eren.

The peacekeeper refused to look at him and as soon as the handcuffs came off, he pulled back, putting some space between them. Tossing the other man his share of the food, Eren sat down on the ground hesitantly, keeping his distance from the other and started to unwrap his meal. It wasn’t an easy, companionable meal. The veal tasted terrible, the meat looked overcooked. Even his stomach found the food revolting to hold down. Eren ate with his fingers, careless of the dirt. And it was at this juncture that he remembered his outburst when Levi had offered him that bread roll.   

_Filthy, just like you._

His words from yesterday weighed heavy.

Eren sought out the Vigilante and found him seated behind the TJ’s landing gear. The older was facing the sun blazing red white in the horizon, looking at the endless hills of redstone, and he was facing away from Eren, his mask peeled away to his nose, leaving his mouth exposed. A gloved hand held the food to his mouth. Eren couldn't make out much from this far. The older man stayed on his guard, still unwilling to abandon his disguise around Eren. Though the game was already up.

Why?

Why did Levi insist on keeping this wall between them?

Eren brought down his veal cutlet and studied it gloomily.

‘Hey,' he called out. 'About what I said yesterday—’ Eren began, hoping Levi could hear him over the distance. The paper wrapping of the cutlet crinkled in his hands, and Eren fingered it idly. He watched the Vigilante go stiff at his voice, but the man didn't turn. Eren wasn't sure if he ought to be disappointed by this lack of response, but he resumed. ‘--I didn’t mean it. You aren’t filthy.’

The man said nothing. However, his silence spoke louder than words. If Eren had been hoping that his confession would inspire an equal apology from the other man, it didn’t. Levi remained stoic as ever, refusing to budge or accept his mistakes.

Eren cast his veal a sullen look. He dropped it to his lap and looked to his companion instead.

‘Um. You still have that bread roll on you?’

 

 

 

 

 

Farlan directed Mikasa's attention to the jeep parked on the road and held out the keys. The woman in the bomber jacket passed a critical eye over the vehicle. She didn’t look impressed. Not by a long shot.

'Is this supposed to be my ride? Are you joking?' she asked, gesturing to the old jeep. 'My ship was the latest model on the market, the fastest in its segment. This thing is a land mover, and it looks like a tow truck!’

Farlan Church shrugged in nonchalance and turned disgruntled at the lack of gratitude on the reporter's end. 

'I am sorry, but this _tow truck_ is all I can arrange for you at such short notice. Take it or leave it. The only other ride I have to offer is a Llama, but I trust you don't want that.’

Mikasa growled at him. Her day kept going from bad to worse. Frustrated and spent, she accepted the keys from the rebel leader. She walked over to the jeep and yanking the door open, she took to the driver's seat. Farlan stepped back as she pushed the key into the slot and revved the engine. And that's when they heard a voice. A voice that sounded high pitched and familiar. 

'Hey! Hold on! WAIT UP!'

The two turned to find Armin running towards them, carefully balancing a droid dog in one arm and his backpack in the other. He reached the two of them and stopped, looking breathless from his short sprint.

'T-Take me with you,' the blond insisted, looking earnestly at the woman behind the steering wheel.

Farlan grabbed the boy's arm and held Armin back to have a quick word with him. Farlan didn't approve of the idea, apparently.

'I don't think that’s wise, Armin,' the rebel leader told him. 'You heading out alone.'

'Look. I know it’s dangerous out there,' the boy blurted out. 'But I am tired of being cooped up here. This is my only chance to take notes of an alien world. Heck, NASA might find this information useful. Plus,' Armin pointed to Mikasa. 'I care for Eren too, you know. I promised his mom that I'd look after the idiot.'

Mikasa pursed her lips as she surveyed the boy, giving him the once over. She pulled the scarf tighter around her neck.

'This isn't a picnic,' she said. 'And last I heard, you are a drug peddler and a tailgater.'

Armin straightened the straps of his backpack.

'Those are lies! All lies! Your government is the one who framed me!’

Mikasa gauged him and didn't seem to be enthused at the idea of taking him along.

'C’mon, lady,' pressed Armin. 'Just let me hitchhike with you. I'll be good and useful. Believe me.'

The reporter gave the boy a long look of scrutiny.

‘Pray, tell me. How exactly will you be useful? You good at combat? You have any experience with investigative journalism? Do you have contacts in Utgard? Any network?’

Armin looked between her and Farlan, his buoyant spirit taking a hit. He turned to the mutt in his arms and slowly, he held up the droid to Mikasa’s face.

'Um, okay, I may not be useful. But I... have a dog?' he suggested. 

Krobe barked enthusiastically, adding its voice to the medley.

Mikasa pulled a face at Krobe and didn't look convinced by his offering. She pressed a hand over her brow.

'Fine. Get in,' she said, relenting with a sigh. 'We're already leagues behind.'

The saint couldn't have been more delighted. Armin hopped over to the passenger side and shuffled in. He threw his backpack to the rear and strapped his seatbelt on, making himself comfortable.

Farlan leaned in through the window, looking at the boy in concern.

'Are you sure you want to go?' the rebel leader asked him.

Armin nodded.

The rebel leader exchanged a wary glance with Mikasa before turning to Armin.

'Alright,’ Farlan decided, tapping the boy on the shoulder. ‘I can’t stop you from leaving, Armin. But promise me you'll be careful. Don’t get caught by the State. And stay away from dunesnappers,' he advised with a smile.

'Sure,' said Armin, nodding again before his mind drew a blank at the last part. 'Wait. Dune-what?'

 

 

 

 

 

Eren unzipped himself and began to attend to nature's call. At least, that had been the basic idea when he interrupted the flight with a 'I Gotta Take a Leak.' His exclamation was, of course, met with ridicule namely along the lines of 'How old are you? We just passed a service station! Hold it in!'

Eren's bladder didn't agree with the idea.

It had a general principle to never agree with any idea.

And so, here he was... standing in the middle of an aquifer, which could be better called an oasis back in his world. There were clusters of springy trees and a funny looking shrub that seemed endemic to this part of the alien land. The plant had a short, thick trunk. The branches were slender and green and spread into an open bush formation, bearing most of their leaves towards the end. But the strangest part about it was the close lipped red flower, big enough to swallow his fist. As soon as he was out of Mikasa's TJ, Eren hopped over to the bushes and struggled with his zipper.

But relieving himself wasn't so easy when he felt shrouded eyes boring into his back.

Eren looked over his shoulder, only to find the Vigilante standing against the belly of the TJ and watching him.

'Can you... um, not look at me when I piss? It's distracting!'

'Why?' the man asked, feigning innocence. 'Do I make you hot and bothered?'

Eren scowled and held up his middle finger.

'Bite me,' he announced to his voyeur. ‘This is a new low even for you.’

'I have seen you naked hundreds of times. What's the big difference?' came the argument.

Eren cursed under his breath, letting out a string of expletives.

'Because I don't want you to watch me, alright?'

He heard the smirk in the Vigilante's answer.

'As alluring as your dick is, Eren... I am only here to warn you.’

The peacekeeper fiddled with his zipper.

'Oh yeah? Warn me about what?'

'That you're about to take a leak on a dunesnapper. That isn't a wise idea, sunshine. Believe me.'

Eren looked at the shrub below him. A _dunesnapper._ Odd name. The plant looked harmless enough as it swayed with the desert breeze.

'He’s making a fool of me,' Eren muttered under his breath, feeling the painful urge build up in his bladder. 'Yeah. He’s just bluffing—'

That’s when Eren spotted movement. Ocean eyes went wide as saucers as the nearest flower tilted towards him, pulling its red petals open and leaning towards his member. Eren staggered back in the nick of time, saving himself and his family jewels from its hungry mouth. He fell on his butt and remained there, gawking at the creature. Words weren't enough to express his horror. Eren watched the plant pull away, reverting to its state of stillness. And he kept gawking, unable to come to terms with vegetation that had a life and will of its own.

‘What the fuck was that—' he blurted out as he stared at the alien plant.

Eren crawled back a few more steps, relieved to put some distance between him and the vicious little shrub.

He heard a chuckle from Levi. 

'It's a dunesnapper. I hope you understand... where it gets its name from.'

Eren zipped himself in a hurry and getting up, he stumbled his way back to the aircraft, looking pale as a sheet of ice. The Vigilante's inkblot face gave nothing away, but Eren was sure the man was smiling gratuitously behind it.

'Not a word,' Eren warned, climbing up to the passenger side. 'Swear to God, if I hear one word out of you—'

Of course, Levi didn’t hold back. 

'Titan Prevails, sweetheart. Titan prevails.'

 

 

 

 

Annie kept a careful watch over her VIP prisoner. The man tapped his fingers along the edge of the desk. Shrewd eyes moved quickly over the paper's grid, filling numbers with a tiny stub of a pencil, whittled down by his teeth. The more she watched, the more she realised how alike and different the two were. Eren and his father. The research scientist was as restless as Eren. While Eren spent his excessive energies in the boxing ring, Grisha Jaeger found his calling in solving puzzles. Annie had watched in amazement as the man spent the last two hours, solving every one of the one hundred Sudoku puzzles that Lawrence had deposited on the prisoner's table. All to mock the elder man.

But Grisha Jaeger didn't take offense. He went on to solve each of them, working at his feverish pace. He solved them all in two hours, spending less than a minute on a single grid.

Without a doubt, the man was a genius.

Teetering close to insanity but still a genius.

Annie didn't attempt a conversation, preferring to watch the caged animal instead. She stood in a corner, with her spine to the cell's wall. She noticed her prisoner reaching for a glass of water. The elder man took large gulps to quench his thirst before placing the glass clumsily back on the table.

'You're a PeaceCorp, aren't you?' the man finally asked, breaking the ice at long last.

His beard was wire-brush gray. He looked up at her and scratched it thoughtfully. The hair on his scalp hadn’t met a comb in days, giving him the uncanny appearance of a mad man. There were also scorch marks on the old man’s temples, and Annie didn't really want to know what sort of torture this man had been forced to endure.

'PeaceCorp, huh? What makes you think that?' countered Annie.

Grisha's chapped lips pressed into a thin line, and he smiled.

'You didn’t salute Lawrence when he left. Nor are you wearing the insignia of the MP. So, I made a hunch... I am good at hunches, young lady.’

'I bet,' said Annie, her mouth twisting into a snide smile.

Grisha tossed his pencil stub into the empty glass and watched it in silence.

'My son is a PeaceCorp too. Do you know him? His name is Eren.'

Annie watched the man carefully, not sure if he was testing her or concocting a plan in that strange brain of his.

When she didn't answer, Grisha Jaeger nodded in understanding.

'Right, of course, you don't know him. PeaceCorps stationed on Earth aren't allowed to reveal their identity. One of the three cardinal rules. Isn’t that right?'

Annie watched him warily, her blue eyes never wavering from the wizened man.

'Do you know why?' he asked her next. 'Do you know why... the State made a rule like that?'

Annie scoffed in boredom.

'I am from Earth, Dr Jaeger. The rules of the State don't interest me. Titan could rot for all I care.'

Grisha's gaze met hers.

'That’s precisely the reason why you should care.'

Annie brought her head down and looked hard at him.

'What's that supposed to mean?'

Grisha turned restless again. He lifted a hand and scratched his head, looking like a man possessed. 'I was sent to your world to glean all. I studied extensively. I read up on your philosophy, architecture, science and technology. Everything that could give us an edge over your people, young lady. Everything that could be turned into a weakness. My favorite remains history. When our timelines and progress went off on a tangent from yours. Look at us,’ Grisha paused to gesture between Annie and him. ‘Same blood, almost the same DNA. And yet, we're culturally imbibed with different motives. There is much to be learnt from history's lessons. Do you get me?'

Annie frowned.

'Nope. Not really, old man.'

Grisha took the glass in his hand and turned it upside down, the stub of pencil still trapped within it.

'Don't mind me quoting your own history. But in the sixteenth century, the British Empire, one of the great Imperialist Nations of the Colonial era... employed a strategy to control newly conquered lands. You know what they called it?'

The blue-eyed girl shook her head.

Grisha smirked as he gave the pencil in the glass a jiggle.

'Divide and rule.'

Annie Leonhart considered him quietly in the silence that followed.

'I don't get it,' confessed Annie. 'You’re kinda off your rocker, Grey Baron. You talk a lot and you don't make sense most of the time. I don't get why the State wanted you that bad. I mean, what's the big deal? They can open a gateway on their own anyway. Sure, it takes longer time than your magic key but—'

Here, the elder man broke into a laugh. It was a derisive laugh and rankled Annie. 

'But you're mistaken, young lady. The Universal Gate Key is like any other key. And you forget that keys work both ways.'

'Both ways?' the Viking woman repeated, emerging from the shadows into the light. 

'Yes,’ Grisha breathed, pressing the bridge of his nose. There was a manic anger in his eyes that unsettled her. ‘Didn't they tell you? The State isn’t keeping me locked up because I can open gateways, Ms Leonhart,’ he paused. ‘No, they’re afraid because I can close them all.'

 

 

* * *

 


	79. Company

 

Chapter-79- Company

~.~

 

 

In an aisle of Utgard's high security detention center, a woman sat on a bench with her head tilted back. She studied the false ceiling as her mind filtered out the _ritchit-rachet_ of soldiers on patrol duty. Lessons drilled into her whispered in the back of her brain. She was reminded of the old days, when Sergeants Dita Ness and Keith Shadis used to talk fondly of Utgard. The veterans had always reminisced about their times here, citing the glory of Titan’s military citadel. Back then, she didn't expect to visit this place. But life had its twists and turns in store for her, she realised. Annie looked out the window, looked at the line of sentinels and sensor lines guarding the walls. While most people would look at walls as obstacles, Annie's father had taught her a different lesson many years ago. She remembered him sitting cross legged on the floor of the gymnasium and studying something on the floor.

'Annie, come here,' he called to her impatiently, waving her over and patting the spot beside him.

The fifteen-year-old girl sat down beside her father, her attention drawn to the apparatus he had laid out on the floor. It was a petri dish with black ants swarming inside it. 'New hobby?' she asked her father in amusement. 'Aren't you too old for this?'

Her father let out a hearty laugh.

'No, just teaching you somethin' important, kiddo.'

'What's this got to do with scrapping?' she asked.

'It's got nothing to do with fighting, love, but it's an important lesson to survive in this world.'

Annie pulled a face, feeling just a little sorry for the ants trapped in the petri dish. For some reason, they were crowding around each another, none trying to scale the glass walls. And for the few brave ones which had tried, the ants got stuck to the perimeter of the dish. Her father explained that he'd applied hot glue around the edges. The elder Leonhart showed no remorse at this.

Annie hummed curiously. 'So, what's the life lesson here? Don't mess with hot glue?' she quipped.

Her father shook his head.

'Ants and human beings are very different, Annie. But in panic, we behave the same as these buggers.'

The girl turned back to the petri dish, frowning at his words.

'I don't get it,' she finally said. ‘How so?’

The pockmarked face of Mr Leonhart lit up. He directed her attention back to the ants. The creatures were moving towards the walls of the dish now, or more precisely, they were moving towards their fallen comrades who were still writhing as they remained stuck to the walls of the Petri dish. And to her surprise, they began climbing over their fallen brethren, trampling  the stuck ones while mounting towards the top in a single file.

She looked up to see her father's blue eyes fixed on her.

'There's your lesson. Never be afraid of walls, Annie. There is always a way out. But you gotta wait for others to make the mistake first. You get me?'

Learn from the mistakes of others more than your own.

The memories weren’t a comfort; they were an annoyance. Because that was how she remembered her father, a man who had no scruples about taking advantage of other people. And just across the aisle, in a room sat another man confined to his cell. A dad who'd sacrificed himself to protect a world he didn’t even belong to. Two dads, two men… but opposites.

Is that why she and Eren turned out so different? Because they were the prodigies of two different men?

Annie looked towards the cell again.

Grisha Jaeger had dozed off, having exhausted his limited means to leisure. There were no more puzzles to solve, nothing to keep him occupied. Conversation had come to a moot point with Grisha Jaeger reluctant to speak more about the gateways and with Annie uninterested in the theme anyway.

But before turning taciturn, the research scientist had ventured to ask her one last question. Coincidentally, it was the same question that his son had put to her in the basement of her house.

'You're an Earthborn, young lady. Then why is your allegiance with the State?'

'Why?' Annie asked herself now.

Annie closed her eyes, shutting out the light from her conscience.

She wasn't sure if she had one.

The young woman stuffed her hands into the pockets of her hoodie jacket, searching for her nicotine fix. To her disappointment, she didn't find the pack of cigarettes. Her right hand groped the inside of her pocket a second time and instead of cigarettes, it found a crumpled roll of paper. Frowning, she pulled it out.

She looked long and hard at it, puzzled, before rolling it open.

It was just a small slip of paper. And it had a black cursive handwriting on it. Familiar, much too familiar. Once upon a time, the writer had employed the same handwriting in filling out claim forms. The same man who’d persuaded her to give their dysfunctional relationship a chance. To give their _world_ a second chance. In a way, Bertolt had always been that. Her chance at life, her chance to redeem herself.

His writing wasn't as neat as it used to be. It was slanted; the t's uncrossed… as if the words had been written in a hurry. Bertolt had scribbled down a quote in German, in the language of their immigrant forefathers.

Wer mit Ungeheuern kämpft, mag zusehn, dass er nicht dabei zum Ungeheuer wird. Und wenn du lange in einen Abgrund blickst, blickt der Abgrund auch in dich hinein.

‘The abyss looks into you?' Annie interpreted out aloud. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'When did he slip it in?' she wondered, patting her pockets in search of other hidden treasures. There were none and Annie looked at the quote again, a small smile flitting over her lips. The giraffe's stealth deserved more credit than she was inclined to give. The smile vanished, and her blue gaze softened. She had left without a proper goodbye.

'It's too late, Bertolt. We are out of time. There is no turning back from here,' she said aloud.

The young woman crushed the paper into a ball and buried it in her pocket again.

The elevator doors swung open with a chime, and she watched D.E. Lawrence emerge from within, looking more choleric than usual. Her middleman wasn't happy to see her outside the captive's cell. The man walked past her, heading determinedly towards Grisha's room.

'Leonhart,' he addressed her, 'Your assignment wasn't to lounge around like a tourist but to keep an eye on the prisoner. Are all you Earthborns incapable of following orders? I'm surprised your civilization has gotten this far despite being such incompetent fools—'

Annie felt something stir in her. Her face hardened as she reached for the knife tucked in her boot.

D. E. Lawrence caught sight of the movement. He stopped in his steps and looked over his shoulder.

And from there, he gauged her coolly.

'Do you think that's wise, Leonhart? Remember where you are and who is speaking to you right now. Do you want to attack a high ranked officer _here_ of all places? Especially when I am the _only_  one who can help you and your… sick little friend?'

He waited for her reply, but Annie said nothing. The girl bared the whites of her teeth and returned the blade to her boot. Lawrence smirked and gave a mock wave.

'That's my little girl,' remarked the misogynist.

Annie folded her arms, her gaze narrowing.

'I'd watch my mouth if I were you,' said Annie, sinking back into her seat. 'Someone might land a foot in there one of these days.'

Much to her chagrin, the toad face smirked.

'And if I were you, Leonhart, I'd remember the terms of our deal.'

 

 

 

 

 

Krobe hung its head out of the window, its ductile metal tongue hanging loose while Mikasa drove the jeep along the fringe of railroad tracks. Between Armin – the happy camper, and his dog – the happy mutt, Mikasa didn't know who the worse choice for a companion was. The blond boy liked to whistle under his breath while the dog had taken a fancy to barking at any cacti and dunesnapper that passed on the terrain. And when the dog wasn't barking, it would let out a low melancholic whine into the winds. As if someone had stolen its bone (or metal nugget) and refused to give it back.

Krobe was back to whimpering again.

Armin pulled the mongrel back inside and forced it to settle down on his lap.

'I know, Krobe. I know that you're worried, boy. But we will find your masters, you can count on me.'

Mikasa gave the boy a sideways glance, surprised at his confidence.

'Armin….? That's your name, isn't it?' she asked.

The boy in the oversized tux turned to the reporter.

'Yeah,' he said, extending an arm and offered to shake her hand with it. 'That's my name. Armin Arlert. GPA 4.2. Majoring in Quantum Mechanics. I like karaoke, kicking butts at Warcraft and spending time in dusty libraries. Just a regular earth dude at your service.'

Mikasa smiled at his introduction but she didn't take up the proffered handshake, her hands being preoccupied with the stirring wheel.

'Nice to meet you, Armin,' she said with a soft smile. 'I'm Mikasa.'

The boy nodded.

'Mikasa Ackerman, the reporter, yeah… so I heard,' Armin peered at her up and down. 'So, uh, if you don't mind me asking, what's your deal with Eren? You called him a brother back at the party. That was just a figure of speech... right?'

The girl with the dark hair went quiet.

'I am his… sister.'

Armin watched her carefully, finding no resemblance between the siblings.

‘His adopted sister,’ she amended.

The saint stared at the girl. Krobe barked for his attention and tried to snuggle under his armpit. But Armin remained gawking at the reporter. The boy rubbed his forehead and heaved a sigh.

'Man, I don't believe that guy. I thought we were the best of pals. And he kept so much from me. First, he got himself an alien boyfriend and didn't tell me a word about it. Then, he got hitched to said alien boyfriend without even inviting me to their wedding. Third, I discover he's got an alien best friend on this side. And now, you! An alien sister! Next thing I know he's gonna pull someone up and say, Armin, hey, meet my E.T. dad.'

Mikasa cleared her throat and managed a smile.

'Armin, hate to break it to you but… that's exactly why we are going to Utgard.'

Armin gave her a blank stare.

'Please tell me you're joking.'

She wasn't.

 

 

 

 

 

Six hours had passed since they left Maria. They ought to have reached Utgard already if Delphi's Diner hadn't taken so long with their order or if the weather hadn't played a spoilsport. The sky was growing pitch-dark, weather balloons glowing in iridescence at every league mark. The time on the dashboard showed 2:45 hours. It was going to be another evening in Titan. He had slept in fits and breaks, struggling to get some shut eye... some semblance of sleep. His thoughts often revolved around his dream of his mother; other times he dwelt on his father. Doubt lingered in the absence of Mikasa.

Did he really want to rescue his dad? After all, what had Grisha done for him?

From Eren's conversation with his newfound sister, it was apparent that his father had kept in touch with his mom.

But not him.

Nope, not Eren.

Why had he been left out?

Despite Mikasa's reassurances that his allegiance to the State had been an old chapter of Grisha Jaeger's life, the ghosts of Jaeger-Lyndon Research Centre continued to haunt the peacekeeper. The misty lake with its accumulated pile of dead bodies. The unclaimed corpses floating in their glass vessels.

Eren squeezed his eyes shut and brought up his right hand, biting on it to distract himself.

'Stop that,' said the man beside him.

Eren said nothing but let his hand drop bitterly.

When Eren wasn't thinking about his father, there was the second 'old man' in his life occupying his thoughts.

Perhaps, not too old.

But a man who did act the part by reprimanding him, calling out his mistakes and in a way, looking out for him.

The more-than-a-decade year gap never bothered him before. Not until now. While this journey had taught Eren a fair deal of lessons, it had also brought forth questions. Would Levi have trusted him better if they weren't years apart? Would Levi have regarded him as an equal if he hadn't been Eren's guardian and superior?

Eren's face grew darker than the sky of Titan. If there was a silver lining, it was the fact that they'd left the storm behind. Eren took to watching the rhythmic pattern of the ailerons working on the wings. Mikasa's TJ was like a streamlined land rover with retractable wings. The fuselage was short, with a seating capacity of two. There was a trunk where Eren had discovered supplies like a first aid box, blankets and a carton of aviation fuel. Strangely, there were no horizontal and vertical stabilizers on the Turbo Jet.

The Vigilante had turned off the cockpit light, but their confined space remained illuminated by the neon switches on the control deck. Colors of blue, green and yellow were reflected on the windshield, gleaming in the space between them. There was the sweeping cloak of darkness around them, his fear of heights returning, and there was still the residue of anger directed at the man beside him… but the small lights, the steady rumble of the engine and the breathing of the Masked Vigilante were almost calming in their nature.

The ambience was almost… intimate?

Eren coughed, blinking furiously at the thought.

Armin was right. There was indeed something wrong with his sense of romance.

Eren reached into his pocket and drew out the last of the cutlet he’d stashed away, hoping to distract himself with food. He’d saved one last bite, and he wondered now if he was even hungry enough to finish it. Delphi's Veal Cutlet was the vilest thing he'd ever tasted, but on this one occasion, he let his stomach rule over his disagreeing tongue.

'So,' he said, breaking the unnerving quiet. 'How long… till we reach Utgard?'

The Vigilante checked the coordinates.

'Four hours if all goes well.”

Eren nodded, settling into silence again.

The inkblot face turned to him, noticing his tenseness.

'Can't sleep?'

Eren said nothing for a long while. He stared down at his lap, wondering why words were particularly difficult. While the world thought little of his skills, Eren did pride himself in one thing. About his ability to read between lines, especially those of his guardian. It hadn’t been easy either, to be able to pick up the subtleties and nuances of the other man’s language— both spoken and unspoken. But once Eren did, there was so much the boy learned. He realized he'd become so used to the other's silences, the trailing pauses between words. Pauses that kept Eren on his toes and kept him waiting on the edge forever. Waiting for something more. Perhaps a revelation that this journey was worth its destination.

But he was tired now. He needed words. 

'Do you care?' Eren finally asked, voicing out those doubts aloud. ‘Do you _really_ care?'

The Vigilante paused to look at him.

'I thought we already cleared that up.'

Eren shook his head.

'No, you didn't. I know that Captain cares. I know the Corporal has always looked out for me. But the person I want to hear it from… is Levi.'

The Vigilante turned back to the front but didn't acknowledge Eren with a reply.

 

 

 

 

He’d been thinking about burritos and quesadillas when Eren got a rude awakening. Someone was shaking him awake.

'Wha—What happened?' he asked groggily.

'We've got company,' the masked man said, removing his hand from Eren's shoulder. The peacekeeper's gaze lowered to the radar. As Eren studied the screen, he spotted a dot blinking some leagues behind them.

He didn't like that dot.

'Please tell me that's a bird… a freakishly large bird.'

The Vigilante snorted, his attention glued to the console.

'If that's a bird, I'll eat my hat.'

The younger man glanced back, lifting the visor glass and craned his neck for a better look behind them. He spotted a dark aircraft tailing them and cursed under his breath.

'Okay, that's no bird, Captain. Guess your hat lives another day,' he said, squinting as he tried to get a better look. ‘How did they find us?’

‘Maybe someone at the service station recognized you.’

‘Hey, don’t go blaming me. You’re the one who looks like a freak.’ Eren gave a low growl at their pursuer. 'But what the heck is it?'

Levi shrugged and did a scan on their tail

'It’s unmanned. From the way, it snuck up on us…. It should at least be a Class C Drone.'

Eren squinted at their tail, his fingers fidgeting with his oxygen mask.

'Uh, is this a good time to ask what's a Class C Drone?'

The masked man sighed.

'Did you ever pay attention in your class, Eren?'

'No,' Eren squeaked sheepishly. 'I was kinda busy trying to score a lunch date with my guardian, what do you expect?' the brown haired young man sighed. 'At least I thought it was a lunch date but as it turned out, I was offering to give you a BJ for fucking four years. And you’re an asshole for not telling me what the sign meant.'

The Vigilante chuckled at the memory.

'Are we still mad about that?'

'Oh, I am mad about a lot of things—'

Eren was interrupted.

They heard a screech.

'What the hell was that?' Eren blurted out.

Soon, Eren wished he hadn't asked. Because a loud whistle pierced the air, and something flashed past their TJ, barely missing their right wing. A missile, he garnered as it shot past. The projectile missed them, but it struck a weather balloon floating in the sky, puncturing the inflated body and making the balloon burst in flames. Eren braced himself as the Vigilante pulled a hard left, making the TJ swerve from the path of the burning wreckage.

'Tch. You had to ask, didn't you?' the Vigilante hissed, changing gears faster than Eren's eyes could follow.

The peacekeeper looked back at the drone dogging their tail.

'Man, the State _loves_ us, don't they?'

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (German) Wer mit Ungeheuern kämpft, mag zusehn, dass er nicht dabei zum Ungeheuer wird. Und wenn du lange in einen Abgrund blickst, blickt der Abgrund auch in dich hinein.
> 
> Whoever struggles with monsters may see to it that he does not thereby become a monster. And when you look long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you. – From the book Beyond Good and Evil by Nietzsche
> 
>  


	80. Face

 

 

Chapter-80- Face

~.~

 

Sol was crying, and none of the crew in Chromium Shark knew how to calm her. The celebrations were suspended; the rebels had shuffled out, disappointed and complaining, leaving Isabel and the ragtag motley of Captain's men to wrap up the festivity in the Spiegeltent. When they'd finally returned to the inn, Isabel asked the men to gather around at the stairwell, so she could do a headcount. There wasn't much to count. There was just Hunter, Marco and Jean before her. The latter was nursing his bloody jaw, looking oddly aggressive in his muddied vest and dark pants. Jean's hair was disheveled; the ashbrown tried a futile attempt at preening it. His friend Marco looked contemplative and observant as he often did, one hand tucking away a book behind his suit. All while Hunter picked his nose.

'Where are the others?' Isabel demanded as she slowly rocked Sol to sleep. The infant's wails had reduced to a whimper, but there was not the slightest sign of the baby succumbing to the sandman's wishes.

The three men before Isabel looked at one another in puzzlement.

It was Farlan who answered as he emerged from the door leading to the basement.

'Captain and Eren are on their way to Utgard. Armin decided to pursue them with…' Farlan pulled a face, trying to remember the name of the young woman. 'Uh, Eren's reporter friend.'

The news of the shorty leaving with Mikasa, took Jean and Marco by surprise, and the young men exchanged a glance. Since when was Armin spontaneous enough to jump on the adventure bandwagon? Since when did the saint hitchhike with brunet bombshells, Jean wondered, sulking silently in his corner.

Isabel patted Sol comfortingly, trying to subdue the sobbing child.

There was just one person unaccounted for.

'Magnum? Where is Magnum? Anyone seen _amante_?'

No one had.

'I… saw him taking the truck out,' said Farlan. 'Maybe he got drunk and passed out somewhere. It won't be the first time, Izzie, would it?'

The innkeeper grimaced at the thought but she didn't say a word. Her braid of red hair had come undone, and she looked visibly distraught.

'Magnum is a silly idiot but he isn't irresponsible, Farlan,' she remarked irritably. 'He should have been back by now.'

Farlan agreed mutely.

The innkeeper looked at Sol, who’d begun sniffling into her armpit. She pressed the baby's stomach, cooing to the child. 'Sshh. It's okay, Sol. Hush, my gumdrop. Everything will be alright,' the woman spoke. ‘Your father will be back very soon. He’s going to walk in any time now, you wait.’ Though Isabel didn’t look so sure. The redhead looked at the door in silence and swallowed hard. 'Where are you, papi? Vuelve a casa y participa de la mayor fiesta celestial que nunca has visto, amante,' she said in her native tongue, her voice trembling over the last bit.

Jean removed the icepack from his jaw and tossed it to Hunter.

‘Let’s go look for him.'

He turned to Marco.

'You coming?'

Marco nodded.

'Of course.'

 

 

 

 

'I bet it was your mask that gave us away!'

'Oh and squealing to Air Traffic Control room was any help?' the Vigilante retorted. 

While they were arguing, their pursuer docked a warhead and aimed. Its first missile hit a weather balloon, bringing an effective end to their argument.

The second one barely missed the rudder, leaving the TJ wobbling unsteadily on its trajectory. It occurred to Eren that their pursuer was deliberately missing its target.

The Vigilante deduced why.

'It wants us down but not dead. The State must want you alive,' the man said, his inkblot face turning to give Eren a sidelong glance.

The peacekeeper watched the man swerve the craft to a sharp right, and Eren understood that the Captain was heading for a green plain. As the TJ flew over the meadows, the surface of the land rippled, and the peacekeeper risked a glance through his window, realising his mistake. No, they weren't quite flying over land or green pastures.

But a lake.

A lake with a surface of viscous mottled green that mirrored the sky. Like a lake of icky goo. And in the reflection of those waters, Eren caught their image… as well as the enemy drone's. Eren turned in his seat to glance behind them, only to find the drone giving a steady chase. One of the missile launchers retracted from the underside of the enemy craft and poised itself, locking in its target again. But the warhead didn’t launch.

Eren watched it in horrified silence, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

'It's not firing. Why… isn't it firing?' he asked, confounded.

The masked man took in a deep breath, his gloved hands moving over the console, pulling their altitude lower. He tried to get rid of the drone, but it followed suit.

'Flying over hydrocarbon lakes is prohibited as per aviation rules. Lakes are a no-fly zone. You never read the guidebook, did you?'

'No fly-zone? Why?' the younger asked quickly.

The Vigilante gave a shrug. 'Standard precautions or some shit like that. Is this really the time to be—' he paused to accelerate their speeds to a notch over 200. '—to be discussing standard operating procedures?' the man hissed in that low, gruff voice of his. Eren heard him ground his teeth as he scanned the controls again. 'Too bad your reporter friend didn't pack any artillery into her vehicle.'

There was another bout of strained silence as the man pushed their speeds to 220.

The brunet gripped the buckle of his seat belt, blinking furiously behind his visor.

'Okay, quick question. Are we in trouble?'

There was a tense silence.

'Depends on how you define trouble. Depends on if we can outrace that drone,' the Captain trailed.

'Can you?' Eren asked.

'No,' came the honest reply.

Eren exhaled heavily as his fingers danced over the dashboard. Typical. Levi always picked the worst time to be honest. Eren tapped his helmet, his expression darkening as he weighed their chances. From the way he saw it, their pursuer was only biding its time, waiting for them to cross the perimeter of the lake before it began shooting at them again.

'Great, we're so gonna die,’ Eren muttered under his breath. ‘As if my life wasn’t weird enough, they decide to send in some Terminator shit after me. Oh man, I can’t do this. I can’t die here. I haven't even graduated yet. Are you telling me all those all-nighters I pulled were for nothing?'

He heard the smirk in the Vigilante's voice.

'I thought Squeaky did all your assignments.'

Eren looked at the masked man indignantly, not sure if he ought to be happy that the man had actually cared enough to listen to his grumbling all these years or if he ought to be offended. 'Is this the time to be joking around? There is an armed drone chasing us, and you decide to be funny now of all times,' he griped with a decisive shudder of his shoulders.

'Eren.'

'I can't believe I came back for a jerk like you. I should have just mourned, given a funeral and moved on like everybody else!'

'Eren—'

The boy turned back and gave their pursuer a last glance. 'I really can't die here,' Eren said determinedly. 'I don't even know if my mom is okay. She is waiting for me, and I PROMISED her I would return.'

'Eren, will you listen to me?'

'Plus, dad is in prison. He deserved it alright, but–'

'Eren! Will you stop freaking out and calm down—'

The peacekeeper looked at the man furiously. 'How do you expect me to calm down? I’m on a friggin’ alien planet, flying over a lake of–' Eren frowned, searching for the word. Something snapped in his head, the gears in his mind working overtime. '–hydrocarbon,' he finished with a scowl. 'Wait… hydrocarbon. That's it. THAT'S IT!' he yelped excitedly.

The Vigilante looked at him, the dots on the inkblot face swirling.

'Quick! You have a lighter?' Eren asked his companion.

'You're going to toss a lighter at it? That's your big plan, Earthborn?'

Eren growled.

'Just give me the goddam lighter!'

The Vigilante reached into his coat and having found the object, tossed it to him.

The masked man watched as Eren took off his oxygen mask, his visor helmet and loosened the seat belt. Shuffling out of his seat with difficulty, he took the cable of the seat buckle and wound it around his arm, fastening it tight. He was courting trouble, he knew, but it was the only option. Before the older man could ask what he was doing, or the suicidal plan he was concocting in his head, the younger slapped the switch on the dashboard and opened the cockpit to the fierce air currents.

True, he didn’t give the plan the due attention it deserved. Vision was rendered difficult against the winds at this altitude, Titan's sky roared in his ears, but Eren faced the brunt of it. He stood up and climbed over the TJ's body, looping one jean leg over the opening and keeping the other grounded on his seat.

The Vigilante wasn't happy with his antics.

'Eren!’ he barked. ‘Get back inside!'

The brunet paused to look at him.

'Trust me… for once.'

'Trust you?' the masked man repeated.

'Yeah,' the younger man said, bronze skin turning feverish and red from the windburns. 'We don't have artillery, but we have an entire lake of combustible fuel below us. Hydrocarbons. Fire. Do the math,' said Eren, a wide grin flitting over his lips. He held out the lighter over the edge of the TJ, away from the wingspan and flicked it. The flame flickered to life. 'Take us to the edge, Captain. Take us to the very edge.'

The lighter got blown over by the air currents twice, but Eren didn't lose hope. He kept his hand steady, kept flicking the lighter on, holding the flame and biding for the right time.

The hydrocarbon lake sprawled over fifty miles and if Eren's estimates were right, he'd have just a minute to put his plan into the works. He caught the Vigilante giving him a furtive glance.

'What?' demanded Eren.

The masked man was strangely quiet.

'Heh,' the man finally said, his voice almost lost in the thunderous roar of the winds.

'What is it?' Eren yelled to the pilot.

'Nothing. I married a smart alec. Sending you to college had its uses. Not bad, Jaeger.'

'Not bad?' Eren repeated, his grin turning into a small, embarrassed smile. His face lit up again. 'Hell, I am going to blow that sucker out of Titan's skies and 'not bad' is all you can come up with—' he stopped speaking because there was a sudden turbulence. Mikasa’s TJ wobbled, and Eren lost his footing. He'd have capsized over the open cockpit and fallen to the tumultuous depths below… if a gloved hand hadn't grabbed his arm in time.

The Vigilante kept a precarious hold on him, sheathed fingers gripping him hard.

'You dumbass, don't you dare fall out,' the masked man barked at him.

Eren grew pale. He nodded and with difficulty, groped around to find his footing again. He realised his folly soon enough, that his right hand was empty. He wasn’t holding on to the lighter anymore. Eren scrambled to look back down, only to find a glowing object falling in a spiral towards the lake. His stomach sank when he saw it disappear into a low-lying cloud of greenhouse gases.

'Oops.'

The Vigilante wasn't afforded the chance to ask what that 'oops' was all about. The answer came in the form of an explosion. The spark ignited in a fiery ball of yellow flame, billowing outwards and letting loose blast waves. The noise was as efficient as a thunder clap, and Eren flinched as a cloud of smoke and dust hit them next. The Vigilante pulled Eren inside in the nick of time and slammed the cockpit glass shut.

'I take it back. I married an idiot,' the man barked as another blast followed the first explosion, this one much closer to them. They watched as the blip in the radar blinked out completely. Coughing and fighting back the sting of smoke in his eyes, Eren risked a glance at their tail and to his exhilaration, he found the drone aircraft gone. The Vigilante flew the TJ at full throttle. The aircraft barely careened out over the edges of the hydrocarbon lake just as another fuel infused blast rocked the lake.

There was no time to celebrate for there was the distinct smell of something burning.

Burning rubber.

They hadn't escaped unscathed.

The ailerons stopped working, and Eren noticed that the TJ was losing altitude fast, its nose dipping. He looked out of his window and discovered the problem. Their right wing was on fire.

The Vigilante's grip on his arm tightened.

'Hang on,' the man said.

'Okay, we are really gonna die now!' yelled Eren.

The masked man raised his hand to Eren's head and forced the younger to duck and take cover.

'Not on my watch, Eren. Not on my watch,' was all he said.

 

 

 

 

Eren snapped his eyes open to a grayish sky. The smell of nauseating fumes hit him soon after. The smell of sulphur and phosphorous burning. He groaned as he turned over, finding himself to be lying on silt. Greyish- white silt. That coated him, clinging to his skin, his t shirt and jeans.

Odd.

Where the heck was he?

When his eyes roved around the landscape— a hostile and morose landscape— all they met were the tall serrated edges of a mountain gorge. What the hell happened? How did he even get here? His head throbbed painfully and didn't seem inclined to supply him with answers.

The last thing he remembered was feeling like a pinball in an arcade machine and being put to a nasty tumble through the heavens. There was a lake burning, explosions and— He sat up with a jolt when he remembered the lake. That’s right. Eren began to remember. He remembered the burning wing, the TJ spinning out of control, and oh God, oh God… he whirled around, searching the horizon for Mikasa’s aircraft.

He found it.

The jet had crash landed into a clump of boulders and was smoking in silence, billowing out a steady plume of smoke. His spirits sank at the sight. For it was startlingly reminiscent of the ruins of a smoldered TJ that he’d witnessed in the the desert not too long ago. In an almost exact enactment of the scene, he saw a figure lying spread-eagle on the ground, not far from the aircraft.

Oh no.

Eren blinked, going painfully numb.

His mind became filled with a cacophony of ‘no’s.

The brunet got to his feet and almost stumbled again. His right leg felt sore from the ankle. He didn't stop to think if it was a sprain or worse, some kind of fracture. The peacekeeper limped on and hobbled his way to the unconscious man.

'Captain!' he bellowed.

There was no answer. The man didn’t stir.

Eren trudged his way to his fallen companion and sank down on both knees. The mask was layered with soot, and the splotch of ink had stopped moving. The fedora had slipped off and lay buried in the sand.

'Captain!'

Eren cursed, dropping the charade.

'Levi!'

Silence met his ears.

'Levi, talk to me. Come on! What's wrong with you? Don't... do this to me.'

Eren picked up a gloved hand gingerly to check for the pulse.

To his relief, he could feel it.

It was there. Slow and calm. Still breathing.

What now?

CPR?

Eren brought the hand down and looked at the inkblot face in concern.

Suddenly, out of the blue, an arm shot out, curling around his head and reeling him in. Eren fell head first onto the other man. But before he could pull away, he found his brown head clasped between a heavy set of arms, his own ear pressed to a shrouded mouth.

'Boo,' was the single worded greeting.

Eren craned his neck to look at the mask and caught sight of the dots swirling, the mask returning to its state of animation. He exhaled in relief. But the feeling was short-lived.

The Vigilante gave a gruff chuckle, clearly amused by his own prank.

'Admit it. You still care about me, don't you?' the undead man said, nudging Eren's cheek with his sheathed nose.

Eren didn't find it funny. He didn't find the prank funny at all. The young man gave a low growl, wrestled out of the hold and got to his feet. He walked away in a huff (or rather, limped his way in a huff), never looking back even once.

'Where are you going now?' the Vigilante called, puzzled by Eren's departure.

'Anywhere. Any goddam place where I wouldn't have to share your _obnoxious_ company!'

Levi sighed and getting to his feet, he took off after his radioactive husband.

‘Slow down. You're hurt. Let me have a look at that leg.’

Eren showed no signs of stopping.

'Eren,' Levi tried again.

'Buzz off. I don't want to talk to you ever.'

Of course, Levi wouldn't take no for an answer. He paced ahead, caught up with the peacekeeper finally and grabbed hold of the younger man's elbow. When the Vigilante forced Eren to turn around, Levi found a snarl on the younger's lips and… those vivid blue green eyes on the verge of tears. Though this time, Levi couldn’t fathom understand what he’d done wrong.

'Let me go,' the young man barked, strained voice close to breaking.

Levi watched him in concern but didn’t release the boy.

'What's wrong with you?'

'What's wrong with _me_?' Eren repeated, throwing his hands up in disbelief. His face was still red from the windburns, and he looked downright agitated when he jabbed a finger at Levi. 'What the hell is wrong with _you_?' Eren demanded and pointed to the wreckage behind them. 'What was that just now? Do you _like_ playing dead? Do you get off on this sick joke—'

Eren turned quiet at his own choice of wording and averting his eyes, he wrestled free from the older man's hold. The peacekeeper staggered away, muttering curses under his breath.

'Just when I think I can forgive you, you go pull a trick like that. Is this a game to you? Is this your screwed-up version of hide and seek?’ the boy swore, pausing to look at Levi over his shoulder. ‘I'VE HAD ENOUGH,’ he barked. ‘You don't give a damn about people's feelings. You still don't understand…' and here, Eren's voice broke, and the younger reluctantly turned around to face him.

The peacekeeper’s gaze bounced from place to place, his face overwhelmed by grief. He dragged his hands through his hair as if struggling to articulate his feelings. Eren closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. 'You don't have a clue to what I've had to go through. Back at home, here, _everywhere_ — I’m so tired of all the lies. All the secrets.' Eren opened his eyes and his gaze met the Vigilante's mask at long last.

‘Know something? I hate secrets. Always have,’ Eren said and then held up his right hand, the one missing its ring. ‘Trivia night!' he chimed. 'Did you know that people in my part of the world wear their wedding rings on their left hand. That’s right. Left!’ he hissed, his voice shaking with a coarse laugh. ‘I couldn’t even do that. Cos’ I couldn’t even tell anyone about you, about _us_. And so I lied to everyone. But it didn’t matter where I wore a stupid worthless ring, right? Or if I was a soldier for the worlds. Because I knew my heart was in the right place. It’s all that mattered. My heart! And you broke that heart!’

Levi stood silent, rendered speechless at this outburst.

When he spoke again, his voice was light.

'If I broke your heart,' he said, '--what’re you doing here? Why did you come back, Eren?’

The young man scoffed in disbelief and turned his back on Levi.

'Christ, I wish I had a second ring… so I could throw it at your condescending face again!'

This elicited a chuckle from the Vigilante.

'You don't mean that.'

Eren stopped briefly, turned around and flipped his middle finger.

The Vigilante saw the boy shake his head in mutiny and storm off again.

With a sigh, Levi caught hold of his mask and peeled it off. It came away easy and Levi greeted the open sky with a relieved smile. He pocketed the mask and taking languid steps forward, he chased after the troublemaker.

'Eren,' he called again.

But the brunet wouldn't turn and kicked a pebble in his path instead. Levi almost felt sorry for all the pebbles and stones that came Eren's way for he was doing a very admirable job of kicking them despite his sprained ankle.

'Eren, will you stop?'

'Fuck off. Leave me alone!' the boy snapped.

Levi did none of those things. Instead, he unstrapped the voice modulator, removed the voice box and the microphone, and he tossed them astray. Next to go were the cravat and the trench coat, all deposited on the ground. No more Vigilante. No more disguises. He wouldn't need them now. Because in this gorge of Titan, it was just him and this radioactive husband of his. There were no outsiders, none of the pressing problems of the universe. 

'Eren.'

And the boy finally stopped. Half in surprise, half in anguish. For there was that familiar voice Eren hadn't heard in ages. The dulcet tone was sharp and smooth— it was the voice that had steered him through his adolescence and youth— the voice that could turn smoky when he least expected and send shivers down his spine. Eren Jaeger had often wondered if he'd ever hear it again.

The peacekeeper drew his arms around himself, clutching his elbows.

Levi closed the distance between them, treading lightly to the boy.

'Come on, Eren. Look at me.'

The peacekeeper shook his head.

'No,' came the choked answer. 'I haven't forgotten, you understand? I haven't forgotten the fact that you hurt my friend. Or how you sold me out to the State. Every memory, every moment that I treasured, that I suffered through, that meant something to me, you sold it all out without a second thought. From memories of my mother…' he paused and swept a hand over his eyes. 'To us. To even us! And I don't even know how long it had gone on. Is this what marriage meant to you? Was betraying my trust part of our contract?' Eren let out a bitter scoff. 'You are a jerk! You haven't even fucking apologised yet,' he finished in a quieter voice.

Eren gave an involuntary shudder. His arms fell to his side, and he resumed his angry walk.

Levi stared after the boy.

'I’m sorry for hurting your friend. But I am not going to apologise for the rest.'

'See?' Eren scoffed. 'There's your big, fat ego talking—'

Levi sighed. 'No. You don't get it, sunshine. I won't apologise because I see nothing wrong with what I did. You're mad? About what? A few memories?'

'Wow. Can you even hear yourself?'

Levi studied the broad back of the young man before him.

'Eren, I have done it once, and I'll do it again. A _million_ times over if I have to. As long as it keeps you fucking safe. Don't you get what's going on?'

The peacekeeper turned oddly quiet, stopped, and waited for him to continue. Levi resumed before the young man lost his patience again.

'When you were twenty,' Levi began, bringing a gloved hand up to scratch his undercut. He paused and seemed to struggle with the memory, with the choices he made. ‘The State changed its mind about you. Zachlay wanted your custody. He wanted you under the State's eye, Eren. I refused and of course, big brother wasn't happy about it. They gave me a choice. A court-martial, you subjugated and imprisoned… or I could give them something much easier. Your _memories._ They wanted to test if my reports were true. That you knew nothing about your father's whereabouts,’ Levi nodded into the distance, eyes steeling in determination. ‘I don't regret that choice, trooper. Not then, not now,' the older man gave a small smile that no one could see. 'And I never will. You know why, kid?' He paused and looked at the young man standing in his black tee and jeans. 'Because I got to see you live for three more years. I got to see you go back to that world you love so much. To your snowy mountains, rivers, oceans, your mother and... your strange friends. Seeing your carefree expression was worth it.'

Eren pressed his eyes shut. 

Levi walked over to him, closing the gap again.

He caught the boy's arm and forced him to turn around. There was that tear stricken tanned face, but the wondrous eyes were shut tight, and lips pressed into a quivering line.

Levi pulled his arms around the shoulders of the young man, drawing him into an embrace. He pressed their faces together, skin-to-skin, basking in the scent of his hot-headed boomerang of a husband.

'Look at me, brat,' he urged in a quieter voice.

Eren refused stoutly.

Levi bit into his lip as he watched the sunlit wonder in front. He let his eyes stray to Eren’s shoulders, the boy's lanky arms, soothing to hold between his own. When the peacekeeper refused to open his eyes yet again, Levi decided to take initiative himself. Fine, he would drag the mountain to him if that was what it took. He kissed the messy forehead of the younger, lingering there for a long moment. He trailed lower to land another kiss on the grimy left cheek, Eren's ear, his nose and the corner of Eren’s mouth where the tear trails ended and wonderland began. Levi could taste the salt in them. But none of these ministrations would make Eren open his eyes.

'Still angry?' Levi breathed against his ear, almost teasingly. 'Look at me, Eren,' he urged again, turning serious. 'I’m right here. Isn't this what you came for?'

This time the brunet did open his eyes.

Blue green eyes met a steady, amused grey.

The young man stared, drinking in every shape and feature of the unmasked man. From the still bandaged forehead to those grey depths. There was a wave of emotions that passed on the peacekeeper's face from disbelief to joy, from anger to nostalgia. Eren brought his hands up and canvassed them around Levi’s face, his fingers shaking around features that had once been shrouded by masks and mystery. He blinked twice and gave a teary smile.

'I thought I'd lost you forever. I thought I wouldn't see this face again,' Eren said, his hold turning firm.

Levi shook his head, refuting it.

'No, if you’d given up... you wouldn't be here today, would you, Eren?'

There was the hint of pride in Levi's voice. 

Eren gave a slow nod and brought his hand down to cradle the other man's jaw. He pressed their foreheads together, smiling.

'I'm persistent, Corporal. Haven't you figured that out about me yet?' he said, pressing lightly.

Before Levi could make another of his jarring remarks, Eren pulled the older man close and kissed him.

It wasn't a tentative kiss either. Like the one in the interstellar tunnel. No, this kiss tasted of raw desperation and regret, of missing and needing. In this small moment, all their troubles were forgotten. The universe and its miasma of planets, constellations and cosmos forgotten. Troubles of this world and the next forgotten. The ruins of a TJ forgotten. Hell, Eren had always known that this prick of a husband of his... would be the black hole to consume all. And he was. In a way, he would _always_ be.

When they broke apart, which was a struggle in itself, they panted, breathing hard, eyes never leaving the other. Levi let slip a gratuitous smirk. He studied Eren with his unmasked gaze, tracing Eren's chin with a gloved finger.

'Hm,’ he murmured, eyes clouding with a new emotion. ‘Does this mean you'll sleep with me now?'

Eren's answer was to draw the older man in for another kiss. This one more passionate and feverish than the first.

 

 

 

 

 

_Are you alive?_

_I touch you_

_You quiver like a sea fish_

_I cover you with my net_

_What are you- banded one?_

The Pool, H.D

 

 

* * *

 

 


	81. Truth

 

 

 

 

Chapter-81- Truth

~.~

 

 

_Five years ago_

Eren remembered the scent of helumbary— narcotic and earthy, like a strand of familiarity tying him down in a strange, unexplored land. He remembered the clean, white linen under them and the sound of Mrs Norman's cats mewling next door. Someone dropped a spoon, probably Mrs Norman, and there was that awkward silence again. Silence and two men caught in its snare. Or rather, one man and the other a boy—a teenager at the cusp of manhood. 'First time is tricky and painful’, his guardian once told him, when Eren had been in a hurry to cross that last frontier for all the wrong reasons. He remembered being eighteen, naïve and that awful mix of foolhardy and courageous.

But trapped between the arms of his superior, courage now deserted him.

He was on sacred ground. It was his one shot to impress, and he didn’t want to fumble this.

Thoughts ran like a bullet train in his head, swarming, tumbling and colliding against walls. Bells echoed in his ears, though that could just be his heart hammering in his chest. And somewhere amidst all this, there was that libido of his– throbbing and impatient.

'Have you done this before?' a voice asked, interrupting his thoughts. It was a careful voice, measured and calm. Husky even.

The words weren’t spoken but breathed against his collarbone. Had he done this before? Eren remembered looking at the false ceiling and searching for the answer there. He was, after all, a youngster and a rebellious one at that, a proud juvenile at the brink of adulthood, so it wasn’t easy for him to admit to his inexperience. That, no, he hadn't done this before. Not with a girl, not with a guy, not with anybody. Period. But how was he supposed to confess all this to his guardian? Especially to someone like Rivaille Levi who expected competency and professionalism in all spheres of life. To Levi, who disliked flippancy in every form and shape, who probably had OCD, and a predilection for silent judgment.

Ergo, Eren Jaeger didn't tell the older man the truth. That he was as awkward with sex as he was in his own skin. That his only escapade was with a guy named Grapevine from AP Calculus. And Eren couldn’t even do it with the dude. 

And so, Eren Jaeger did what any lovesick teenager in his position would do.

He lied.

He lied, thinking he could fool that guardian of his.

'Have I done this before? Come on,' he said, giving a laugh of jitters. 'I’m eighteen, Corporal. You think I’m still an inexperienced virgin?'

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he began to regret them. The boy squeezed his eyes shut, mentally chastising his big mouth. Great, he’d just signed himself up for a rough night ahead. Sure, it had been a diplomatic stand to take. He hadn't admitted to either side of the argument, but there was that voice of Jiminy Cricket going 'tsk, tsk, shame on you, kid,' and the voice of his conscience drowning in a lake far away.

_Gurgle, gurgle._

Eren bit back a moan as a firm hand swept over his chest, tracing the contours of his shape. The touches turned featherlight and sent a shiver down his spine. He didn't know what it was. The semi-darkness, or the air conditioning or the scrutiny of those grey eyes, the stern mandate behind the words, but Eren began to feel self-conscious. He wasn't flabby but there wasn't much to boast about either. He’d enrolled himself into his high school's boxing classes, hoping he could pack a mean punch and look the part too. But four months of weight training, mornings spent sparring with an Irish Coach and doing a hundred push-ups before breakfast only succeeded in toning his core muscles and making him look leaner and taller than before.

'If you aren't a virgin, why can't you look at me?'

Why?

Because he was embarrassed about lying and the fact that he was butt-naked before the very man he looked up to?

Eren flushed with surprise and arousal.

'I swear, Corporal. I've done it… plenty of times before,' Eren argued and hoped he sounded more convincing than in his head.

'Pleasuring yourself with your hand doesn't count,' came the devious reply.

_Dammit._

Clearly, Levi wasn't cutting him any slack about his lack of experience.

'I don't—'

His protests were cut off by a deep kiss, a tongue that probed entry, and Eren could feel the man's smirk at his lips. His pseudo-guardian was clearly enjoying this repartee.

They stopped to catch their breath.

'You... don't?' Levi repeated with a slight frown. 'You expect me to believe that? You've been trying to get in my pants for the last three years.'

Eren kept quiet to preserve what little was left of his dignity.

Levi pulled back and allowed him to speak.

The brunet began to protest weakly.

'Hey. I wasn't that horny. '

The lie was returned with a nip at his lower lip.

'Are you telling me—' Levi paused here, '–that you didn't have a single, lewd thought about me all these years? Think before you answer, trooper.'

Eren flushed till his ears.

'Fine! I might have. But for the record, I didn't do it... often. And don't flatter yourself into thinking you're my first. I've been _around_. Seriously. I’m all kinds of smooth talking Casanova back home. Believe me, sir.'

Levi raised himself on his elbows and stared at him.

'So, you've been around?'

Eren returned a quick nod.

'Yeah.'

'And you have sufficient... experience?'

'Sure do, sir.'

 _Fuck_. And now, his conscience must have died a martyr's death and its corpse was probably floating out to sea.

Levi was watching him curiously, his gaze smoldering.

'Fine. Have it your way, cadet. You’ve been _around_ so you say. Care to back that up with a number? How many?'

Eren wondered why he was being put through the Spanish Inquisition. He didn't like how Levi could multitask at a time like this either. The sheets rustled, the bed groaned under their collective weight, and Eren let out a yelp when he felt a cold touch on his hips. Foreplay wasn't really Eren's thing. He was more of the Man of Action, but for some reason, his superior insisted on taking it slow. Excruciatingly slow.

'Nghh,’ the peacekeeper said, feeling the goosebumps rise on his skin. “W-Wait... What?' stammered Eren, when he remembered he’d been asked a question.

Levi trailed down his body, exploring and kissing places that Eren didn’t know existed. Was this even his body anymore? Was this even him making such unholy noises?

Eren heard a chuckle.

'You can never pay attention, can you? If these were battlegrounds, you'd be hors de combat by now,' said Levi, pausing and biting into the skin of Eren’s hip.

The brunet squeezed his eyes shut when a hand reached up to tease his nipple. He couldn’t think straight anymore. Forget keeping with the conversation.

'Only because you're hellbent on employing Fabian tactics,’ the younger protested and dropped the salutations. ‘Your hand… was distracting me. What were we… _oh fuck_ … talking about again?'

There was a meaningful pause.

'You said you've been around, Jaeger. So, tell me. How many people did you screw?'

Eren snapped his eyes open, and he scowled at the familiar ceiling above him.

'Christ. Do we need to have this conversation—' the hand slipped to his nether regions, and Eren's voice dropped a few notches low. He pressed his eyes shut again, losing himself in the ministrations of the older man. '— Oh God, that feels— _whoa_ — like do we need to have this conversation right _now_?'

'Just answer the question, trooper. How many?'

A number.

Just give a goddam number.

And make it something believable.

'T-Two,' Eren hissed.

Much to his disappointment, the hand stopped, the covers shifted again and Eren felt a warm breath on his neck.

Levi looked at him.

'Two as in... people? Real live breathing people?'

The teenager rolled his eyes.

'Hey. What kind of—' Eren stopped talking and muttered an expletive when the hand resumed its groping and the man slithered down, his mouth beginning to trail a wet line down Eren’s chest and dipping a tongue into his navel. Levi had gone from Fabian strategy to guerrilla tactics, which wasn't so good for the blood rushing in Eren’s veins. _Too much, too much, abort_ , screamed his brain. The peacekeeper took in a deep breath, trying to keep up and keep calm. '—What kinda question is that? I’m not into bestiality— _ngh_ , _whoa_ , that feels—!'

'Feels?'

'... good,' Eren finished with a squirm. 'Really good.'

 

 

 

 

If there was any consolation _now_ , they were at least doing it on No Man's Land.

When you're married to someone for three years, when you've been in an established relationship with said someone for five, sex ought to become a mundane part of the affair. After all, in the beginning, there was a fervent need to explore uncharted territories, things no one else knew, no one had seen or ever heard of. Like the way their bodies looked naked, unsheathed, without the layers of clothes and responsibilities. The way their eyes snapped open and shut in the throes of climax. The kind of noises they could evoke out of each other. The goose bumps their touches could elicit on the other's skin. Like Columbus voyaging to new lands, Eren was ecstatic to watch this man – his mentor, his superior and his guardian lose that mask of indifference at every step of the journey.

Sex required vulnerability, tenderness, honesty and the courage to fumble around until you find your footing. And boy oh boy, Eren had all of those qualities.

There had been fireworks in the beginning, no doubt. And he'd thought that those fireworks would fizzle out after all these years.

Surprisingly, no.

Because when the clothes were off, and they lay together with their backs exposed to the cold mountain wind, arms tangled… the boundaries disappeared like a line of chalk erased with the dab of the elbow. Eren was no longer the Earthborn and the other man, a Titan. He was no longer the ward and the other– his guardian. And yet, he remained the chaotic one and Levi, with his endless principles on safety, caution and cleanliness— the order. Gentle and restrained.

Always restrained.

First time is tricky and painful, Levi had once told him.

Yet Eren’s first time, all those years ago, had been anything but _that_. Levi had treated him gently and thrown out Eren’s feelings of inadequacy. He’d known about Eren’s inexperience and bought his lies anyway.

But this time... they were on level ground. Eren could do this with more aplomb. Neither of them stuck to their predestined roles. They tossed dignity and caution to the winds. And while they hadn't exactly left any surface of #1263 unexplored, nothing beat sex in a mountain gorge under a luminous grey sky. This was no man's land, and there was indeed no one but them. Someone (Eren didn't remember who) raised the question of whether they shouldn't be trying to find a way out of this barren ravine. Clearly, the mandate of the situation was to figure out an escape plan first. Was this really the time for a romp in the sack? The other's answer was to shut the first with a kiss. Yeah, screw rational thinking. And for once, the two men gave in to those primal urges. They granted themselves the luxury of being human. Hands roamed, itching to touch and remember, to seek and deliver. Every moan and groan, every kiss, every nip, the sound of skin on skin echoed in their ears as if they were confined in a B-grade movie theatre, hearing their own tape play out.

When all was said and done (with more doing involved than saying), the two men lay exhausted on the grey silt, naked with only a tarpaulin rug sprawled lazily over them. A tarp that they had managed to salvage from the smoking aircraft. With their heads reclining on their elbows, they stared at one another, each trying to catch his breath, both trying to find words to fill the silence between them.

It was strange in a way. They had spent countless days and nights in each other's company, and Eren had been sure that there was nothing new that he could glean about his mentor. He thought he'd memorised everything about the man. From the pallor of the face to the hooded grey eyes, forever incapable of dilating. From the shadows of insomnia on Levi's face to the way his fingers laced between Eren's – giving and seeking assurance. And that faint, almost invisible smile lurking at the lips.

And yet, for the cosmic voyager in Eren Jaeger, there was always something new to discover.

Like how their exertions left the older man as breathless as him.

It was the only time Levi descended from a state of demigod to a mere mortal.

But along with these feelings, came the painful memories. Of what had been lost and what they could never get back. The safety of #1263. The privacy of those four walls. A place called home. They both had turned vagabonds, on the run from the law, on the run from the State. Where was this road going to lead them? How long could they keep up this cat and mouse game? Until one of them got caught?

Which one?

Eren forced himself to turn on his back. Brought down from the highs of pleasure, he looked solemnly at the sky of Titan. Grey just like the eyes boring into the side of his face. Now, that he thought about it, this land... this world was just like Levi. A metaphor for the man who lay beside the peacekeeper. Ruthless, dogmatic, a zero tolerance for troublemakers and grey. Yes, a whole lot of grey. There was no black or white here. But there was also a key difference. Levi wasn't barren like this landscape. There were emotions and feelings buried under that pokerface, Eren knew.

The question was...

Was it enough?

Eren gave him a sidelong glance, watching Levi carefully.

'What is it?' Levi asked.

'Admit it,' said Eren. 'You missed this as much as I did.’

Levi's gaze held his firmly. To Eren's disappointment, the older man said nothing and sat up with a grunt. He gave their surroundings a quick scan but again, said nothing. Instead, Levi let out a soft sigh and sought out his pants.

'I am not going to say I didn't enjoy it... but–' Levi paused, gesturing from the desolate land to the wreckage of the aircraft, '–we should have known better.'

Eren watched the man, his gaze unwavering, before he decided to sit up. The rug— the hard and abrasive tarp— pooled around his middle and the brunet looked down at his hand. Unraveling the fingers, he opened his palm to reveal a coin enclosed between the fingers. The head of Lady Justice shimmered.

The peacekeeper grimaced as he turned the coin over.

'I'll tell you what's not right. The fact that I lost again. I have the worst luck ever!'

Eren scowled as he traced the figurehead on the coin. He was pretty sure that it was rigged. But when he turned it over, there was the emblem of Titan's treasury. The symbol of infinity. Before he could study the coin further, a hand reached out and took it from him. Eren watched as the other man pocketed the denomination.

The raven-haired man smirked.

'You're just bad at tossing a coin, trooper,' said Levi. 'It's got nothing to do with your shitty luck. Believe me.'

Eren raised an eyebrow.

'I swear there is a trick here somewhere,' he promised. 'And I'll figure it out.'

'Is that so?' challenged Levi.

Grey eyes watched him with a hint of mirth before Levi's smile faltered and the older man's expression grew serious. 'It's not like you haven't won before.'

Eren rubbed his face, grimacing again. He didn't remember winning all that much.

'No offense. But I’m sure I can count the number of times I have topped on my fingers.'

Levi gave Eren an indulgent smile. He caught the younger's head and raising his face, pressed a kiss to Eren's temple.

'Better luck next time,' Levi whispered.

Odd enough, his expression was oddly pensive as he spoke.

Eren rolled his eyes.

'Next time?’ he echoed and shook his head. ‘Oh, really? I wouldn't keep my hopes up if I were you,' griped Eren as he pulled himself backwards, putting some distance between them. He shot up to his feet, taking the rug with him. Eren searched for his jeans next, a bitter scowl flitting across his features. 'There is so not going to be a next time. Believe me, _Captain_.'

Levi watched his struggle in faint amusement.

'You can't still be mad.'

Eren threw him a dirty look.

'I am.'

'What was this then?' asked Levi, pointing to the mess they had made on the grey silt.

The brunet averted his gaze awkwardly from the scene.

'That... was to de-stress,' Eren emphasized, scouting for his clothes again. He bent, picked up his t shirt. 'And dammit, after everything you put me through, I needed all the de-stressing I could get.'

The younger man spotted his pants lying discarded a few feet away and pulling the rug around him snootily, he went to fetch them. 'And you know why there won't be a next time?' he grumbled under his breath, giving Levi a wayward glance. 'Because you're a prick and you're going to be sleeping on the couch for the rest of your life. Mark my words! On the couch!'

There was an eerie silence even as Eren shuffled over to his clothes, picked up his jeans and shook the dirt off them.

'Rest of my life, huh?' was all he heard in reply.

The peacekeeper hopped between feet as he pulled his jeans on. The left and then, the right. He grabbed his belt and began rolling it through the hoops. He paused for the other man had gone quiet. Levi was still sitting in his place, an arm perched over his knee. Unmasked, unsullied, wearing just his pants. He made no effort to don the disguise of the Vigilante. As though something held him back. He was looking at Titan’s sky with a strange unreadable expression.

Eren watched him in concern before balling the rest of his clothes. The shirtless boy walked back to Levi and sat down next to his husband. He swept a hand through his brown hair, trying to sieve the sand out.

'Hey,' Eren called.

Levi glanced at him, eyes sunken in a pale face. Hard lined grey eyes that could set the world right with just one look.

Eren cleared his throat and broached the subject on his mind.

'Why do I get the feeling… that you haven't told me everything?'

Silence followed that question.

The older man turned from Eren and didn’t meet his gaze.

'You are holding something back, aren’t you? I know you, Levi. I've known you for a long time. You're not telling me something. And it's… _important_ , isn't it?'

There was no answer, but Eren saw a flicker in the eyes of the other man. A flicker that confirmed his worst suspicions.

Eren shifted, moving into the spot before Levi. The peacekeeper caught his husband's face between his fingers, forcing the older man to look at him and only him.

'C’mon,' he urged. 'Out with the truth! What is it? What the heck are you keeping from me?'

But Levi looked past his shoulder, keeping his focus on some point in the landscape.

'Enough with the half-truths,' Eren pleaded as he caressed the man’s cheeks with his thumbs. He leaned in, bumping their noses together gently, taking care not to disturb the bandaged forehead. ‘Just come clean already. Is there something else I need to know?'

Levi took a deep breath but refused to meet his gaze.

The peacekeeper sighed and dropped his hands. He’d tried asking nicely, he'd begged, but the answers still wouldn't come. With a grunt of annoyance, he turned to look at Mikasa’s crashed TJ.

'Fine. Keep your secrets,' he grumbled, flicking the dust off his jeans. ‘God, you're so stubborn. I hate it when you do this.’

From the corner of his eyes, he watched Levi pull away from him.

'You're angry again,' the man remarked, getting to his feet. 'How can I trust you with my secrets when you don't control your emotions enough?'

Eren scoffed.

'Oh yeah? Have you even given me a _chance?_ You are always treating me like a kid.'

Levi disagreed.

'No, I treat you like an adult.'

'But you never _trust_ me, do you?' Eren snapped before turning his head away and hiding his scowl.

Levi smiled at him.

'I do trust you, Eren. But you are tied to your feelings, you know it.'

The peacekeeper tried to make a cutting comeback but swallowed it. All he could do was huff and brood in silence.

Levi reached for his shirt and slipped it on, buttoning it with grace. He looked up and graced Eren a smile. A small sliver of a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He walked back to Eren and crouching before the younger, he took Eren's sprained foot in his hand. He palmed it with surprising tenderness, massaging the foot in silence.

'Hey,' Eren prompted indignantly. 'Let go.'

He was still mad about a lot of things, after all. Chief among them being the reluctance on the older man's part to reveal answers.

Levi looked at him.

'We've got enough things to focus on at the moment, trooper. Let's get you fixed up and rescue that old man of yours.'

Eren watched him wordlessly, surprised that they were actually speaking about his father.

'Fine,' he relented grumpily. 'But what happens next? Suppose we _do_ find my dad, what then? Will you tell me?'

A pause.

Grey eyes glimmered.

'Tell you what?'

Eren sighed in exasperation.

'The truth for _fuck's_ sake!'

Levi met his gaze and after a long, drawn silence, he nodded.

'First, how bad is your sprain?'

Eren shrugged, not sure if Levi was trying to change the subject again. There were those guarded secrets that he couldn't figure out yet. He saw the man massage his ankle again, grey eyes never leaving him.

'I asked you a question, soldier,' the shorter man prompted. 'Are you listening?'

Eren gave a slow reluctant nod.

'Yeah, I am listening.'

 

 

 

Mikasa wasn't having the best time of her life. Her eyes were bloodshot from driving the whole night, and she was sure that she was breaking the speed limits for terrain travel. Thankfully, they hadn't come across any check posts of border patrol. To add to her troubles, Armin's— no, correction— Eren's dog was trying to chew into her gear box.

'No,' she snapped at it. 'Sit! Behave!'

The droid mutt whined at her.

'Sit,' she commanded again.

Krobe perked one ear up and looked at her with its beady, doleful red eyes.

'That's not going to work on me,' she told the robodog. 'If you can't behave, I will toss you out at the next scrapyard we pass.'

The droid barked at the threat and turning one eighty degrees, swept under Armin's foot. The boy in question was snoring away and holding on to his backpack as if his life depended on it. His mouth hung open, eyes buried under his blond fringe.

Mikasa Ackerman, reporter to Trost News, let the boy sleep, if only she could have a moment of silence to herself. The jeep rumbled through the land, leaving a mini desert storm in its tracks. She read the indicator for the fuel tank and was consoled by the fact that the tank would last them until the next station. But would she make it?

Mikasa urged herself to stay awake.

_Snap out of it._

_Eren first, sleep later._

Fate decided to pose yet another hurdle in that plan of hers. The woman in the bomber jacket and red scarf heard the engine cranking and sputtering. Never a good sign. With one final gasp, the engine died mid-throttle, and the jeep came to a hard stop.

Mikasa hung her head across the steering wheel, wondering if her luck could get any worse. She kicked at the pedals and tried cranking the engine again.

'Come on.'

Nothing.

'Come on, you piece of junk. Please don't do this to me.'

The engine did not stir.

Nor did her Earthborn companion.

 

 

Levi picked up his trench coat from the ground and along with it— his belt, his holster and the grappling gun. While Eren tended to his injured foot, he watched the man move briskly to the ruins of the TJ. Slipping between the wings, the older man snapped open a latch on the underside and drew out a black box. A box with the label 'TX Safety Supplies'.

Slipping his socks on, Eren watched the man sift through the contents of the box, throwing out supplies and utilities until Levi found what he was looking for. What looked to Eren to be a small, thin cylinder. Levi dropped the box and armed with this object, he walked to the center of the gorge. The raven-haired man paused to give Eren a smile— a disarming smile.

'Close your ears,' directed Levi.

Eren threw him a puzzled look.

Levi gestured to the cylinder.

Eren didn't need a second warning for he recognised what the object was.

Levi held up the rocket flare. He gave it a vigorous shake and taking a deep breath, he slowly pulled out the metal pin from its bottom. The effect was instantaneous. There was a burst of red light, and the flare shot towards Titan's sky, whistling shrilly as it went. And boy, was it a spectacle to behold. The rocket ascended high and burst into an umbrella of bright streaks, followed by a bright red tail. It was like their own personal Fourth of July.

Eren watched the barren land be illuminated in the hues of that powerful flare.

Levi turned to walk back to him, one side of his porcelain face lit in the hues of magenta. Levi knelt down before him and picking up where he left off, he took Eren's ankle in his hands, unrolled the sock and spent a long moment examining Eren's sprained foot.

The peacekeeper's eyes remained glued to the lit sky.

'You think there's anyone around here to help us?' he asked Levi.

Levi placed the sprained ankle back on the ground and rolled the sock back up.

'I took a chance. Worst case scenario, we might end up drawing attention from the wrong sort.'

'Wrong sort?'

Eren watched Levi shrug.

The older looked up to give Eren a guarded look.

'Whoever turns up, we need to climb out of this sinkhole first.'

Eren glanced at the serrated walls of the mountain gorge. Climb out? He turned skeptic. Before he could voice out his doubts, Levi caught Eren's arm and was tugging it around his neck.

'Whoa... Whoa. What do you think you're doing?' asked Eren, realising what Levi was planning to do.

'What do you think?' said the man as he hauled another arm around his shoulder.

'Are you nuts? The wall's got to be at least sixty feet—'

But the man wouldn't take no for an answer. Ignoring the boy's fussing, Levi asked Eren to grab his trench coat.

Eren hissed.

'Look here. I’m not fifteen anymore,' Eren protested. 'You don’t have the right gear either. You can't carry me piggyback all the way up! I’ll drag you down—'

'Heh,' the man muttered. 'I've told you before, Eren. I’m not a hero, but I’m the only one who can and who will always protect you. Now, quit yapping, climb on and wrap your legs around me.'

Eren stared at the back of Levi's head, he stared in disbelief. He tried protesting again, but it was in vain. The older had made up his mind. Bracing himself, Eren climbed onto the man’s back gingerly and pressed his head against his guardian’s white shirt. With a heave, Levi stood up, carrying them both.

Eren licked his lips. 'You know it's kinda sad... but that's probably the most romantic thing you've ever said to me.'

Levi chuckled.

'Don't be stupid. I'm always partial to calling you 'sweetheart'. But you never do.’

Eren rolled his eyes.

'Yeah, right,’ he breathed against Levi’s neck. ‘So not gonna happen in this lifetime.'

 

 

* * *

 


	82. Hero

 

 

 

Chapter-82- Hero

~.~

 

The sneakers that he'd worn from home, the ones which had become frayed from all the running and kicking that Eren put them through... had to be left behind. It wasn't easy. He had brought little with him on this journey to Titan. Even his backpack sitting safe in the inn of Chromium Shark, had not been as solid a companion as his sneakers had been. They had been with him through thick and thin, through fair and rough weather, braving all the elements with that 'never-say-die' attitude of his. With his sock clad feet wrapped around the older man's middle, Eren arched his back to give one last look at the gorge below. He wished he hadn't. The height was dizzying and neither of them had the faculties of gear to secure them. Levi had shot the grappling gun skyward, and the younger man had seen the hook anchor itself to the walls of the gorge. That had been the _easy_ part to the scheme. Now came the ordeal. The ordeal, which the unmasked man was determined to bear alone.

In sickness and in health,

Until death do us part.

They hadn't married each other to Christian vows. Theirs had been a marriage cast in a dusty office, surrounded by file cabinets and an overworked registrar who'd looked like she needed a vacation desperately. There had been no priests, no ribbons, no fanfare or any of the traditional symbols. But there had been vows, vows spoken in silence. And Eren was darn sure... that giving a piggyback ride had not been part of the contract.

The peacekeeper kept still as he pressed the side of his face to the other man's back. There was almost a hypnotic pattern to the way Levi climbed the walls. A tug on the rope, curl of the fingers and strong arms pulled their weights up. Dirt and pebbles rained below them, all unsettled from Levi's boot searching for ridges in the uneven terrain. Another tug on the rope, a heave and the pattern repeated. Levi kept climbing.

All while Eren did nothing.

Guilt-ridden, the brown haired young man gave a furtive glance to the land below.

The more they ascended, the more tiny his sneakers began to look.

His distraction didn't go unnoticed.

'Still... moping... over your shoes?' asked Levi, his voice sounding strained from the exertion. The man was breathless and who wouldn't be after hauling, lugging and towing the weight of two over a cliff.

The peacekeeper adjusted his center of his gravity, scooting closer. He shook his head in reply.

'Sorry,' mumbled Eren.

His apology seemed to surprise Levi.

The brunet heard the man shift and felt a hand brush his knee.

'I’m sure your shoes can't hear you from there,' Levi quipped, finding some humor despite their despairing situation.

Eren rolled his eyes but allowed a smile to slip by, a smile that vanished quickly when he heard a grunt. The back that he was pressed into was sweat drenched and taut. Clearly, Levi was pushing himself to the limits.

'Hey. Levi?' called the younger man.

'What?' asked the other, sounding slightly annoyed at the interruption.

‘Do you want to trade places? We can switch. I swear my foot’s feeling better—’

Levi didn’t acknowledge him with a reply.

Eren looked downcast.

'I'm sorry. You know... about this.'

'This?'

'Yeah. About being a deadweight and making you carry me.'

Levi didn't reply again, and the silence stretched awkwardly. The older man curled his hand around the rope and resumed the unforgiving climb up the mountain gorge. The peacekeeper didn't know what to make of the silence. Eren curled the toes of his injured foot, testing them again. Still sore, still useless.

He let out a sigh.

While he had been honest about the apology, a part of him wished Levi had said something.

Did Levi agree with him?

'I’m a troublemaker, aren't I?' trailed Eren, with a shake of his head. He went quiet and pressed his forehead into the small of the other man's back, a move that made Levi pause. He paused for a moment and then resumed climbing. Eren fell into old habits. The urge to fill the silence with words, because he felt uneasy. He began speaking again, his voice dropping to a whisper as he remembered all the reasons to why he had come this far. 'Yeah. Maybe, I shouldn't have come. And you know the weird part, Levi? I came to Titan, thinking I could save you. That I could pull you out of any hellhole that you were in. I thought I could be your… hero. For once. Just this fucking once. But I am the one who ends up rescued every single time. That's not fair on you, is it?'

Again, there was no answer. Levi didn't stop his climb but Eren could see him slowing down. The hands that worked the rope were tugging at it half-heartedly. The tension seemed to ease. Levi's breathing was now calmer and less forced. There was a pause before the dark-haired man spoke.

'You won't be Eren Jaeger if you didn't bring your share of trouble,' remarked Levi.

The boy stared at the back of the man's head.

Eren blinked awkwardly and swallowed the dry lump in his throat.

'I was kinda hoping you'd say I was no trouble at all.'

Eren heard a chuckle.

'I don't mince words,' came the cutting reply. 'And I am not going to sugar-coat the truth. After eight years, you are still pathetic at following orders, your hand eye coordination is crap, and, you've got no control over your emotions, cadet. That much is clear as day.'

Eren pursed his lips and rolled his eyes.

'That's a big list,' he grumbled.

'And you run your mouth too much.'

'Uh huh,' said Eren. 'You're going all out, aren't you?'

'Not to forget, you are impulsive, Jaeger.'

'Of all the times you have to lecture me, you pick NOW?!'

Eren wasn't allowed to finish. Levi stopped his climb and took a moment to rest. When the raven-haired man had caught his breath and given his lungs the break they deserved, he turned and gave Eren a sidelong look.

'Your unpredictability, your chaotic emotions, your stubbornness are all that make you... you,' he concluded.

Eren frowned.

'Uh, Captain. I am not sure if that was a compliment or... an insult?'

Levi indulged him with a small smile.

'You know me, trooper. I am not going to be mad at anyone who keeps the State on its toes.'

Levi's one hand– sweaty and warm, reached down to place itself over the peacekeeper's. Eren felt Levi's rough fingers lace through his.

'You may be a troublemaker,' began Levi. 'But I wouldn't change that part about you. Do you get me, Eren?'

There was that awkward silence again but, this time, Eren felt relieved to hear those words. He averted his gaze from those grey eyes and smiled to himself.

In sickness and in health,

Until death do us part.

Pressing his face into the older man's back, Eren nodded.

'Y-Yeah. I get it.'

'Good. And one more thing.'

'What?'

'Stop trying to play the hero. For the record, you made me proud years ago.'

 

 

 

If there was a time Jean Kirstein missed his mother, it had to be now. He missed her dearly alright. Not her nagging personality. Or how she would pester him about doing laundry or making his bed. But he missed his Mom— the dentist. The part of her that would bring him hot cocoa during midterms. The part of her that knew how to fix a chip in his teeth. The ashbrown swept a hand across his swollen jaw, trying to stifle the tremors of pain. Where was Ibuprofen when you needed it? Jean Kirstein clamped down on his teeth with a sigh. Even if he were to find a legit doctor in this godforsaken world, Jean wasn't sure if a painkiller would be any easier to get his hands on.

Marco eyed him pensively.

'There is a missionary hospital not far from here, Jean. If you're in pain, the doctor could take a look—'

Jean shook his head, a strange determination set in his face.

'It's fine,' he said. Though he felt far from fine. His ribs hurt, and his joints complained every step he walked. Yep, he had one huge score to settle with that masked freak. Fucking Vigilante. That spineless creep sure did a number on him.

While Jean muttered curses in a low breath, Marco considered him quietly.

'You sure you'll be fine?'

'Positive,' Jean smirked in answer. 'Besides, we don't have the time, Marco. I don't know about you, but I have a bad feeling about all this.'

The freckled man gave a look around and nodded.

'You think Magnum is in trouble?'

Jean sighed.

'I've got a gut feeling. And my gut feelings are never wrong,' said Jean, kicking a trashcan as they passed it.

Both he and Marco had taken to searching the west end of Maria. They had been roaming the streets and Maria's market for the last two hours. But they hadn't garnered much. No one had seen Magnum outside of the celebrations. It had been roughly six hours since the man's disappearance. And, there was still no sign of Mr Dreadlocks. It was as if the ground opened and swallowed the man whole.

Jean stopped walking and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. It troubled him that he was still wearing the suit he'd rented from the missing man. It troubled him on a lot more levels, that he was worried about the man. Magnum was a nice guy. There was no love lost between Jean and Titans, but he could spot a good chap when he saw one. Sure, the guy's pasta needed some work, but after you've delivered a man's daughter, there is a bond that develops between two men, that couldn't possibly be put into words.

He hoped Farlan was right.

That Magnum was lying somewhere in a ditch, drunk like a sailor.

His gut feeling seemed to think otherwise.

Jean hated that gut feeling.

Jean watched Marco cross the road. Raising his hands and clapping for attention, the taller man intervened a game of street football between some rugrats. Apparently, Jean’s soccer lessons had caught on fast. The children protested loudly until Marco began speaking to them in Latin.

'Me Paenitet. Auxilium tuum requiro—'

Marco proceeded to describe their man. Jean watched him talk animatedly with his audience, pointing how tall Magnum was, what he was wearing and where he worked. Marco mentioned Chromium Shark and the children's eyes lit up in recognition. But to Magnum's whereabouts, none of the rugrats had a clue. All except for one.

A girl with curly chestnut brown hair raised her hand and nodded enthusiastically.

She had seen Magnum, apparently.

Marco and Jean exchanged a relieved glance.

 

 

 

Eren sat on top of a boulder, looking high at the sky. The rocket flare had eventually dissolved into the sky. Sure, there was the off chance someone had seen it and was heading towards them even right now. Help could come in all shapes and sizes. But until it arrived in person, they were all on their own. The two of them stuck in the middle of nowhere. No TJ, no land rover, nothing. The peacekeeper let out a low whistle and turned to his husband, who was taking a much-deserved breather at the foot of the boulder.

'Now what?' he asked the man, a smile playing at his lips.

He looked down at Levi expectantly and tossed the trench coat to him.

Levi shrugged as he caught it.

'We wait. That's what we do.'

Eren raised an eyebrow.

'That's it? We are going to just sit and... wait?'

Levi smirked.

'Why? You scared?'

Eren folded his arms and scoffed at the very suggestion. He passed an uncertain glance over the horizon.

'No, I'm totally cool with just waiting. Even though we'd be sitting ducks, and we'd be exposed to weather elements, the military, bounty hunters and whatnot. Yeah, cool. I am totally cool with—,' trailed the peacekeeper, rubbing his elbows distractedly.

Eren caught the mischievous glint in the older man's eyes, almost like a coyote in the desert.

'With?' Levi prompted.

With you.

Eren coughed, thankful that he hadn't said it aloud. 'Never mind,' the boy finished with a nervous gulp.

Levi's smirk grew wider.

 

 

 

'Can you hear me?'

'Yes,' Mikasa grumbled.

'Great. On the count of three.'

She took position.

'One.'

Mikasa blew the strand of hair that had fallen over her face. She was standing at the rear of the jeep, her hands pressed across its back, poised to push. Her companion (and his dog) shouted and barked encouragement from front. From the comforts of the driver's seat.

'Two,' announced Armin cheerily.

The reporter chewed her lip and gave the heavens an exasperated glance. After meeting Eren, she had thought that maybe, just maybe, Earthborn males were more chivalrous than their Titan counterparts. But Armin Arlert, whose principle was each man (and woman) should fend for themselves, was proving her wrong at every turn.

'Three!' the blond counted. 'Okay, PUSH!'

Mikasa steadied her shoulders and gave it her all.

'Come on! Is that all you’ve got! Push, lady, push! Work those muscles, Ackerman!'

Mikasa wanted to point out that yes, she was working. In fact, she was the _only_ one working here. She didn't understand why she had to do all the dirty work, while Lord Regent barked orders at her. When Armin badgered her to try again, Mikasa felt half inclined to stalk over to the driver's seat, grab the boy by the collar and toss him out to a dunesnapper.

She didn’t and kept pushing.

 

 

 

In the melancholic silence, a tumbleweed rolled past the two men sitting among the boulders. Two hours had gone by. And the closest thing to a rescue had been a TJ, which passed right through the dying mist of their emergency flare.

Without so much as a 'hello'.

Titan's sun winked over the horizon, and the air became thick with humidity. For a dwarf star, the Sun was the brightest at eight am. Eren took off his t shirt and wrapped the sleeves around his waist, giving the landscape a long, disgruntled look. Levi, who had been hitherto reclining on his back, with the fedora covering his face, gave the younger man a furtive look. The twenty-three year old's bronze skin glistened with sweat, the broad shoulders a sight to behold and the clavicle still sported marks from their brief rendezvous earlier in the day.

Eren caught him staring.

'What?' he demanded.

'If you're planning to seduce your way out of our little predicament, Eren, you need to try harder. No one is going to fall for that.'

Eren looked down at his bare chest and realised what the man was talking about. He smirked and challenged the idea.

'Oh yeah? We'll see. If a bit of skinship will get us a little attention, I don't see why you mind,' Eren winked. 'Or... are you jealous, Captain?'

Levi gave a snort before burying his face under the fedora again.

Eren heard the other man mutter under his breath. Something that went along the lines of 'I'd be careful if I were you. Might get you more than just a _little_ attention, sharkbait.'

Eren was about to resume their tete-a-tete when the two men heard something.

A noise.

The unmistaken sound of an engine.

And sure enough, they caught sight of a freight truck approaching them at top speed.

'See,' said Eren, waving at the freighter enthusiastically. 'See! I told you it would work!'

Levi frowned as he sat up.

'I’m not sure I want to travel with someone interested in a booty call.'

It was Eren's turn to look troubled. He swept a hand over his eyes, shielded them against the glare of the sun and soon recognised the familiar logo on the truck.

‘Holy shit,’ he exclaimed, breaking into a smile. ‘I can't believe our luck.'

Levi gave him a curious glance.

The freighter pulled to a stop, the miniature dust storm behind it showing no signs of abating. A woman in a jumper suit kicked open her door and climbed down two steps, leaning out. The woman, old enough to give Mrs Norman a run for the money, gave Levi the suspicious once over, not taken by the sight of him, but her gaze lit up when it found Eren.

'Eren Jaeger?' she said and opened her arms in an inviting gesture. As though she wanted to hug and squeeze the life out of him. ‘Salve!’ she said, pulling him into a hug.  ‘Quantum tempus!’

Levi raised an eyebrow and watched his husband be enveloped in the stranger’s arms.

Eren laughed and hugged her back.

‘Good to see you too, Nina.’

'Friend of yours?' Levi asked the brunet. ‘Should I even ask _how_?’

Eren's eyes twinkled over the woman's shoulder. He pulled back and beckoned Levi to the Burgess truck.

'Yep,' he told the other man and made introductions.

'Captain, meet Nina Burgess— Marco’s aunt and our ride to Utgard.'

 

* * *

 


	83. Utgard

 

 

 

Chapter- 83- Utgard

~.~

 

The Burgess truck was missing its usual occupants. The hammerhead was gone, and so were the jittery crabs that once scaled the walls of the crustacean tank. The horses weren’t neighing in their pen either. But there was one familiar face to greet Eren.

Nina's Llama.

'Et me non est vendere,' Nina had said, and Eren assumed it to be her explanation to why the Llama was still here. As per Nina, the demand for Peruvian Llamas was dwindling in Titan's commercial market because the cost for its upkeep was obscenely high, and no one wanted the hassle of handling such a huge brute, especially one known to be a spitting fiend and notorious for harassing its prospective buyers. Eren couldn't help but feel a little sorry for his furry friend. He didn't understand how anyone could refuse such an affectionate and fuzzy creature.

The young man turned to Nina Burgess and winked at her good-humoredly. 'I guess this one's a keeper, huh?' joked Eren.

Marco's aunt didn't seem to share his sense of humor. Hers was a brain meant for business and all that the Llama represented to her discerning eye was failure. Yes. Utter, irrevocable failure. A disgrace to the Burgess name. She sighed and turning to the llama, she gave the animal a narrow stare, shaking her finger at it in warning. As if to say, 'Behave yourself, or I’ll sell you to a butcher the first chance I get.'

The Llama made a gurgling noise and blinked at her in all innocence.

Nina Burgess drew away with a sigh. She wasn't cold by nature, but the economy was bad and her business dragging its feet. As she passed, the woman gave Levi a suspicious look before turning and climbing out of the truck's rear. The doors closed behind her with a pronounced bang. Her footsteps grew distant until Eren heard the engine stir to life. And soon, Burgess Logistics was on the move again.

And that was that.

Their little adventure in the arid land of Titan had come to an end.

The peacekeeper stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and scanned the trucker again. No matter how much he looked around, his gaze always returned to that one man, seeking him inadvertently. Levi was watching him with that expressionless face of his, his frame languid but alert, those hollows under the eyes being the only visible signs of fatigue.

Eren turned to the Llama’s corner again. He shuffled over to the beast quietly, to renew their old acquaintance.

Nina’s Llama greeted him with a snort and stretched its neck from its pen to sniff out the contents of his pockets. Holding back a smile, the peacekeeper ran his hand along its white neck, smoothing down the fur. Eren heard movement behind him and soon Levi joined him at the pen. The man gave the creature a long glance.

'Another friend of yours?' Levi asked, sounding more peevish than usual. The Earthborn's ease in making friends never ceased to surprise Levi. Though he’d never admit it aloud.

Eren nodded, his throat brimming with laughter and his hand never leaving the coat of the creature. He stroked its neck proudly. 'Not sure whether this guy likes me, but he had one helluva crush on Jean. Apparently, Llamas are social animals. Believe me, Jean can vouch for just how social this guy is.'

Levi watched as Eren ran his hand to the animal's muzzle, giving a gentle tap its snout. With one last pat on the Llama's head, the brunet left the smelly pen and moved to the front of the truck. Eren sat down on the floor, folding his legs under him and watched on as the Llama took to sniffing Levi instead. Or to be exact, the pockets of Levi’s trench coat. The older man wasn’t any good with people, but he was surprisingly tolerant with animals. Levi swatted away the creature's head gently, only to discover what had got the Llama's attention. It was the last of those bread rolls buried in his pocket.

'No,' he said to the animal. 'You can't have it, you mangy beast. You've got no manners.’

The Llama gave no heed to his warning and tried to grab the prize for itself.

Levi nudged its head away again. But there was no stopping a determined Llama once it set its eyes on food. He could hear Eren chuckling in his corner.

'What's so funny, trooper?'

The young man pressed a hand to his mouth and tried to keep down his snickers. Noticing Levi's scowl, the peacekeeper straightened up, shaking his head quickly. 'Sorry,’ he said. ‘I never thought I'd see a day like this.'

Levi frowned, still lounging near the reeking pen.

'A day like what?' he questioned.

Eren grinned in that coquettish manner of his. 'To see you struggling to discipline a Llama. Admit it, _Captain_. That Llama got the best of you.'

Levi rolled his eyes. He brought up a hand to scratch his undercut but didn't say anything.

Eren watched him curiously.

'You know, you and Jean have a lot in common.'

At the mention of the ashbrown, Levi's back went rigid. He dropped his gloved hand and rolled his eyes.

'I doubt that,' the older man commented, giving the animal standing before him a long, perturbed look.

'No, you do,' insisted Eren, the smug grin never leaving his boy-scout face. 'Ask the Llama. Wouldn't stop chewing his hair the entire time. It was weird to see Jean getting harassed,' the peacekeeper let slip a wistful smile. 'Though that guy had it coming for a long time.'

Levi cocked up an eyebrow.

'So, you're saying Big Foot here chewed out your friend's hair?'

'Yeah.'

Levi reached for the bread roll in his pocket and to Eren’s surprise, he extended his arm, offering it to the Llama.

'There you go, spitmonster. Seems like you earned it.'

The Llama accepted the tribute with a 'mwah' and gorged it down in one take. Having distracted the beast successfully, the older man strolled back to Eren and hunching up the pants at his knees, he took the spot beside the peacekeeper. Eren gave him a furtive glance.

'What?' Levi demanded with a little annoyance.

'Earned it,' Eren repeated, one eyebrow arched in surprise. _'Earned_ it, huh? Tell me something. What the hell is it between you and Jean?'

Levi gave him a look askance.

'Shouldn't I be the one asking that?'

There were moments in his life when Levi regretted his mouth and its lack of a filter. This was one of the reasons, why being Captain or Corporal came easy to him. But being a husband was an entirely different domain and one he wasn’t meant for. For one, being a good husband meant choosing the words before speaking them. And while his decade long stint in the PeaceCorps had expanded his language and sense of propriety, but when it came to love, Levi found himself to be utterly hopeless. It was a miracle he ever got hitched. And if this marriage had worked before, it had been entirely to the credit of a certain youngster, who didn't need Levi to speak to understand what he meant. A young man who seemed to be drawing closer to his limits.

Eren stared him in a mix of anger and disbelief. He pursed his lips, pointing a finger at Levi in accusation.

'I can't believe you are still insinuating–'

Levi shrugged as he peeled his gloves away and stuffed them into his pockets.

‘Was I?’

'Yes!' emphasized Eren. 'You were.'

The brunet raised one knee in a huff and examined his sprained ankle. The silence was brief because the subject had been broached, and there was no turning away from it now. Eren tried to clear the air between them. 'Look. Jean is one of my best buds. He’s been part of this journey with me, risking his neck out for me, and you had no right to go alpha on him. I _meant_ what I said back then, Levi. I haven't forgiven you for the way you treated my friends. They deserve better, you _know_ that.'

The Burgess truck rolled on unceremoniously towards its destination, the lolling of the carrier hypnotically sleepy. However, neither of the two men in the stowaway truck felt inclined to sleep. The peacekeeper gave a muffled sigh, fidgeting in his spot. He turned and shot Levi a scathing look when no explanation emerged from the man.

'You think you are right, don't you?'

‘He deserved it,' was Levi's curt response.

Eren let out a low growl.

'That’s not true! He didn’t deserve any of it!' the young man asserted, coming to his friend’s defense. 'What were you two fighting about anyway? One moment we’re having a dance off and then—'

Eren went quiet as he remembered the events preluding to the quarrel. The young man blanched and wondered how he’d almost forgotten about it— the dance, the challenge, Jean's bucket list, the rain and... and…Eren swallowed the knot in his throat, berating himself inwardly. He remembered now. Oh, so clearly.

The peacekeeper flexed his arm awkwardly.

‘Um, look,’ he said in a calmer voice. ‘If it was about the kiss, he didn't start it. It was me. All me. And if you had a problem with it, you should have picked a fight with me rather than attacking—'

The dark-haired man smiled. It was a smile that perturbed Eren more than he could tell.

'I didn't assault your friend because you kissed him,' remarked Levi.

Eren looked at him in surprise.

'Really? You weren't jealous?'

'Tch,' said Levi. 'If I was jealous, I wouldn't have let you two brats sleep in the same room. Think about it.'

Eren opened his mouth to argue before closing it promptly. He conceded that Levi had a point.

'But you knocked his tooth out,' he stressed. 'There had to be a reason. What did he do?'

Levi took in a deep breath and reclined against the wall of the truck.

'Your friend has a big mouth, Jaeger. You know what they say. Birds of the same feather flock together. Let's leave it at that.'

The peacekeeper arched up one eyebrow, puzzled.

'What exactly did Jean say that got _you_ all riled up? You're a goddam mountain. Nothing fazes you. Ever.'

Surprisingly, the older man didn't answer and studied his fingers.

There was a momentary pause before Levi spoke again.

'Eren.'

The peacekeeper looked at him.

‘Yeah?’

'Do you hate me?'

The younger stared at his guardian. The question, which had come from nowhere, startled Eren, suffice to say.

'Do I hate you?' repeated Eren. He shrugged, dropping his gaze to his feet. His sneaker-less feet. 'Well, I dunno. You've given me plenty of reasons to hate you. Do you want me to spell them out?'

Before Levi could tell him that it wasn't really necessary, Eren launched into his list with full vigor. He held up his fingers, counting them along as he went. 'Okay, let's see,' he said with a wag of his eyebrows. 'First, you crushed our photograph and threw it at me. Talk about a slap in the face, that’s what it was like. Next, you made your own husband strip before strangers. Yep, that's gotta be the highlight of this trip,' Eren paused, hoping to let the words sink in. 'Next, you asked for a lap dance while I was worried sick about you,' he stopped again and curled his lip in displeasure. Levi looked to be at unease, and Eren was glad that the man was getting a taste of his own medicine. The peacekeeper let out a throaty laugh. 'Oh no, we aren't done yet. Sit tight, there's more to come. Where were we? Oh yeah. You called me names in front of everybody. You led me on a wild goose chase and didn't tell me who you really were. You made me question _everything_ I believed in. So yeah, I DO hate you. And I am pretty sure anyone in my position would have packed up and left at the first chance they got.'

Eren broke off, shaking his head in dismay. He dusted his knees and looked away, watching how the Llama had begun to munch on hay.

'But you didn't,' finished Levi. 'You're here now.'

'Because I’m a moron, go figure,' mumbled Eren.

Levi stared at the walls in silence.

Eren gave an involuntary shudder and drummed his fingers over his leg.

'But you know the funny part?’ he trailed, his expression going mellow. ‘Even after you broke my heart, I couldn't get you out of my head. I tried, Levi. I tried real hard.’

Eren scoffed bitterly. ‘Worst part is I started to doubt myself. If I made it all up. If I had spent my life in a land of make-believe. This world of Titan, PeaceCorps, our apartment, Krobe, you and me. Did I make everything up? Was I running away?' he stopped and let the silence linger. 'Especially you. I wanted to move on but know what, _you_ wouldn't let me.'

Eren paused.

'Not you or your goddam voice,' he said softly.

At Levi’s questioning look, Eren nodded, his head bowed. 'Everything reminded me of you. I couldn't even look at French Toasts the same way. That's when I realised how much I've internalised you over the years,' Eren looked at the other man, meeting his grey gaze and looking sober as he did. 'I heard you speaking when I thought my own loneliness would choke me. I could see you there even when my heart was saying no, and my mind was saying _hell no_ ,’ he paused, turning embarrassed at this confession. He clenched his fingers and nodded at his feet. ‘So, my answer to your question? Yeah, I hate you. But I hate myself _more_. Because you’re a part of me and clearly, I can't do anything about it.'

Levi watched the crown of the younger’s head.

‘Ditto,' he said.

Eren snapped his head up, looking puzzled.

'Huh?'

'Nothing.'

'No, you _said_ something just now. What was that?'

Levi’s answer was to extend an arm and wrap it around Eren's shoulders. He pulled the peacekeeper close and buried his face in Eren’s messy brown hair.

'It’s nothing,' he said again. ‘Never mind.’

Eren rolled his eyes.

'Fine, don't tell me. One of these days I’m gonna squeeze all my answers out of you. Just you wait.'

'Is that so?'

'Yeah,' said Eren, sinking his head against the back of Nina’s truck. 'Swear upon it.'

Levi smiled.

'I'll be on my guard.'

 

 

 

 

'Hic manebimus optime.' Nina announced, her eyes darting around to secure the perimeter.

Nina, like her nephew, had connections. Using an underground channel, meant only for freight and cargo, she’d smuggled them into the outer ring of Utgard, which was as far as her permit could take her. She dropped them at a deserted warehouse, where Eren thanked Nina profusely for all her help. He bid her goodbye and wished her a safe journey back.

'Gratis, Nina,' he said, hoping he got it right.

Nina winked at him in return.

'Hodie tibi, cras mihi.'

Eren smiled despite not understanding a word of what she was saying.

The woman caught Eren's hands in her own and in a low voice, asked him something in Latin.

'–id est?'

Eren didn't know what she meant.

'Sorry?' he asked.

Eren watched her lift a finger and point at Levi, who was busy surveying the road.

'Is… it him?' she translated for his benefit.

'Him?' Eren echoed. The language barrier was gone, but he still didn't understand what she was trying to say.

Nina nodded in encouragement, her finger pointing between Eren and Levi.

Eren looked back at the man and realised what she meant. He returned a buoyant smile.

'Yeah. That's him, alright.'

Marco's aunt laughed as she clasped her door shut.

'Gratulatoria,' Nina said with a wink. 'Da Deus fortunae.'

He didn't know Latin, but he could make a guess. Eren nodded in gratitude, thanking Nina for her kindness and best wishes. As the peacekeeper turned to face Utgard for the first time, taking in the sight of the sprawling city, its barricaded walls and the gigantic fortress in the middle, Eren realised that he was going to need all the best wishes he could get.

 

 

 

 

 

It wasn't easy being a woman in Titan. Especially a woman who liked other women. Or to cut right to the chase, to be a woman in love with a princess like Historia Reiss. For one, the girl was a doll come-to-life. Those long tresses begging to be touched, those alabaster cheeks prone to blushing, her cherry red lips and her high-pitched giggle, which sent nerves tingling to the core. No, Historia was no ordinary mortal. She was a nymph borne in this world of concrete and glass, a fragrant lily among cacti, and Ymir wasn't the only one who had noticed this flower blooming. Because at every step of the way, Ymir was aware of Historia's overzealous fanclub, a fanclub with its own share of cutthroat old men vying for the princess's attention, probably ever since she learnt to smile.

Darn that angelic smile.

Heaven's grace, sweet nectar. The princess's cheeky smile.

No doubt. Historia was the lovechild of Titania herself.

Ymir had thought herself to be immune to human passions. Romance was for the ditzy. For the weak hearted. And yet, here she was– sitting in a nice, cozy restaurant, waxing poetry in her head and waiting for her girlfriend.

Life couldn't get more parabolic than this.

The tall woman almost choked on her straw, when the door to the diner finally drew open. She choked because Historia had walked in, wearing her tiny white dress (accentuating those shapely legs) and carrying her customary pink bag with her.

The girl's face broke into a wide smile when she spotted Ymir and capered over to her table, looking adorably nervous. 'I am so so sorry,' apologized Historia, as Ymir waved to the waiter, signaling that they were ready to place their order. 'Were you waiting for long?' the girl asked as she sat down, her gaze locking on to the almost empty glass near Ymir's hand.

'Long?' Ymir echoed with a scoff. 'Nah, don't be ridiculous.'

And it was true.

So, what if Historia was late by an atrocious hour?

What was an hour compared to that honeyed voice? What was one hour of Ymir’s life to compared to a vision of the goddess herself?

After all, it was only apt that a princess should make a late entry, swooping people's hearts along the way. It was alright as long as Ymir could bask in the jealousy of those around her. Especially the waiter with the cropped haircut. The young man whisked out his digipad as he sneaked a glance at them. Ymir could see the question marks in his head. Friends? Or... lesbians?

Ymir scooted closer to Historia and wrapped a lanky arm around the shorter girl's shoulders. She gave their curious waiter a grin, as if to say. Yes, the girl is mine.

The message wasn't well-received, and the waiter managed a dark smile.

Historia, on the other hand, remained oblivious to these maneuvers.

'I had such a horribly day at court today. Look,' she told Ymir, holding up her fingers. 'My nails are chipped, and my thumbs look like they've seen better days.'

Ymir stared back at those small digits in quiet wonder. It was a sight she could hardly resist. She caught the fingers and looked up at Historia.

'Want me to kiss them better?' she asked in an overtly seductive voice.

Historia stared at her, flushing red till her ears. She couldn’t tell if the taller woman was joking.

'Huh?' she blurted out.

Ymir smiled a wolfish grin. She was going to put the plan into action and enjoy the scandalized faces of everyone in the diner... when her watch buzzed.

The smug grin never left her face.

Ymir played it cool and hit the receive button.

Mikasa Ackerman's voice rang out, startling both Ymir, Historia and the folks at the next table.

'Ymir, I need a favor!'

The freckled woman scowled in return and wished she had checked the caller ID.

'As much as I'd like to, Ackerman... This is a bad time. I’m kinda busy.'

'I’m in a pinch, Ymir. I’d appreciate some backup,' Mikasa paused. 'I'll even set you up with that cute court scribe,' she offered in desperation.

Ymir went pale and gave a quick glance to Historia. Thankfully, her blonde paramour didn’t hear this part of the conversation. Historia was busy admiring an abstract painting on the wall, a fruity painting of a fruity artist.

Ymir lifted the watch to her mouth, almost hissing into it.

'That won't be necessary, Ackerman. Believe me.'

Silence.

'Oh,' said Mikasa, realisation dawning on her. 'I see... Uh, but you're coming, aren't you?'

'Why the hell would I?'

'Because Utgard is your hometown. You grew up there, and it's like your backyard, if I remember correctly.'

Ymir rolled her eyes.

'If you're trying to persuade me, it isn't really working. I expected better from the poster girl of Trost News. You're losing your charm, Ackerman. I am going to hang up now.'

'No, Ymir, WAIT!'

Ymir sighed.

'What now?'

'I need a ride to Utgard.'

'And why should I even help you?'

'Because you are nice... deep down?'

Ymir gave a brittle laugh.

'Good night, Ackerman.'

Mikasa spoke up quickly. Ymir heard her stall, as if she was making up her mind about something.

'Hold on! You should help me because...'

'Because?'

'I have all the dirt on you... and I am pretty sure your cute court scribe wouldn't want to find out about your deepest, darkest secrets.'

Ymir stared at her watch, frowning at it.

'Are you blackmailing me?'

She heard Mikasa's smile.

'That's what reporters do,' said the other woman, sounding not the least bit apologetic. 'So, backup, I trust you’re coming?'

Ymir gave a heavy sigh as she looked at her watch. She graced her smaller companion with a longing look before making her resolve. The freckled woman shook her head, regretting her decision already.

'Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Send me your coordinates.'

With a sense of dread, Ymir cut the call and slunk back against her chair. She turned to find Historia watching her with a small, dimpled smile.

'What?' asked Ymir.

'So I’m guessing… ‘cute court scribe’ refers to me?'

Ymir found it strange how easily the tables had been turned. There was no doubt about it; this little princess would be the death of her. Historia Reiss was a darn attractive nymph. Especially when she was the one dealing the cards.

 

 

 

 

Utgard.

Land of the giants.

Or what Levi was inclined to call... The land of the big ass giant walls.

The peacekeeper didn't know where they were going. One moment, they were walking down an alley in the red-light district. And the next moment, they were standing at a crossing, being pushed and shoved by the tide of people. Contrary to what he had thought, not everyone sported uniforms. It was a graceful mix of the proletariat and soldiers. Ordinary residents like bankers, repairmen, secretaries, traders, androids and construction workers went about their lives, unperturbed by the presence of the military.

No one recognized him thankfully.

No one recognized the Vigilante.

There was little reason to.

Levi, after all, had stopped donning his other face. The Rorschach mask was tucked safe in his pockets. And the trench coat remained neatly folded under his arm for more reasons than one. One reason being the gun hidden in the folds of the garment.

They avoided the security cameras.

They stayed away from public spaces.

They avoided crossing anyone in uniform.

Considering that Utgard was the Military Capital, they couldn't get very far without drawing attention. A few suspicious glances were directed their way, and after ensuring no one was following them, Eren was quite relieved when they finally took cover in a building. There was no one following them. Though he reserved his judgement about entering a love motel of all places.

Eren stalled in front of the neon lights, wondering why Levi always picked the shadiest hotels to stay in. While Levi checked out the neighborhood, Eren read a poster that promised a wild night to remember and a money-back guarantee. Eren stood visibly unnerved by the sign, but Levi's hand caught his elbow and the peacekeeper found himself being jerked in.

At the reception, a cross-eyed woman in her late forties peered up and down at them, taking in Eren's feet and his socks. If she found them suspicious, she hid it well behind a dapper smile and a pockmarked face.

'And how may I help you, gentlemen?' crowed the lady, the very virtue of hospitality. She pointed their attention to the large digital screen where images of girls in party caps kept flashing with little bubbles, introducing the girls and their specialties.

'We have a vast menu,' Mrs Carisle said, flashing her golden teeth and giving them a mischievous wink. 'Have your pick.'

Eren nudged Levi with an elbow.

'Uh, quick question. Why are we checking into a place like this—'

Levi ignored both Eren and the digital board. Instead, he scanned the lounge and the other visitors in their company. Pressing an elbow on the granite counter, Levi turned to the woman and leaned in to whisper.

'We need a room. And privacy.'

'Just a room?' the woman echoed, disappointment creeping into her tone. She pointed to the screen again and with a flick of her fingers, zoomed in on a Jane Valerie. 'My, my, gentlemen. I would ask you to reconsider. It doesn't make sense to come to a buffet and leave without a taste. Allow me to persuade you. Jane is a special import from Monroe—'

'I don't have time for drivel,' cut Levi, irritably. 'I need a room. Do you have one or not?'

The woman frowned, unhappy with the curtness in his manners.

'Apologies. But renting a room doesn't pay my taxes, the utility bill or the maintenance—'

The woman stopped talking when the dark-haired man took out his wallet and slipped a hefty lump of bills on the counter. Mrs Carisle's eyes almost bulged out their sockets. She eyed the money hungrily.

'A room,' reiterated Levi. 'And privacy. No broads. No escorts. Male or female. Comprende?' asked Levi.

'O-Of course!' chirped the matron. 'As you insist, sir,' she said and passed them the smart key.

Eren watched the exchange in a mix of amazement and surprise. Levi's gloved hand curled around Eren’s nape and he nudged the peacekeeper towards the elevator. Eren gave the matron a sheepish smile as they left the reception.

The Madam was still busy counting her bills (and thanking her lucky stars) when she was joined at the counter by one of her veteran residents— Natalia Trepp. The auburn-haired bombshell took out the drag end of her cigarette and crushed it in the ashtray. An act which earned her a disgruntled glare from the Madam.

'What's with those two?' she asked Mrs Carisle as the elevator doors chimed close. ‘They turned us down?’

The matron shrugged, caught up in the business of counting her money.

'Oh, I don't know. Gay... I think.'

Natasha gave the elevator a look of disappointment.

'Bummer. All the good ones are taken.'

 

 

* * *

 


	84. Fortress

 

 

Chapter-84- Fortress

~.~

 

_Fourteen Years Ago_

 

He could hear footsteps outside his door. And then, their voices. His parents were whispering between themselves, his mother sounded calm and persuading, as she spoke to his father under hushed tones. He could see their shadows dancing in the crack under the door, debating and conferring as they usually did. On retrospect, most of their talks revolved around him. In the years that followed, Eren often found himself questioning whether it had been entirely his fault that his father abandoned them. Did he fail his father somehow? Did he not meet Grisha's expectations of the ideal son? Was there some way he could have changed his father’s mind?

Of course, this was long before he discovered the truth. Long before he found out about the gateway in his basement. Long before he knew anything about Titan and the half-blood that coursed through him.

'Talk to him,' he heard his mother say. 'Just talk to him, Grisha. He's had a rough day at the hockey tryouts,' Carla implored. 'He needs his dad right now. Someone to vent his frustration to.'

Eren's father was not a man of many words. He kept to himself and understood little of the nuances of being a parent. There were times when Eren wondered if he’d been adopted. Maybe he'd been delivered to the Jaeger doorstep by a stork with a terrible sense of humor or by a giant on a motorcycle. But jokes apart, he had every reason to doubt his parentage. Because his father would look at him with that strange light in his eyes. Wonder, sadness and bereavement. Why?

Eren didn't know the reasons back then.

'Talk to him,' Carla said again.

He heard his father's hesitant reply.

'I... I don't think he'll be encouraged by anything I say, Carla.'

His mother wouldn't hear no for an answer.

'Just try. Tell him a story. Something to cheer him up. Kids eat up stories like grapes.'

'But Carla,' protested his father with a heavy sigh. 'I don't know any stories to tell him. Where I come from,' he paused, his voice lowering to conspiratory tones. 'Where _we_ come from, imagination gets little regard. Our people were taught science and history. But never... stories, Carla. Stories never amounted to anything.'

Eren heard his mother's laugh, warm and bubbly upon hearing this confession.

'It's not that difficult, dear. Go on. Just try talking to him. He is your son, Grisha. It's an instinct; it'll come to you naturally.'

One of his mother's charms had been her uncanny ability to persuade. And Eren figured that if a woman could talk a rebellious child into going to school every day, heck, she could probably move that stubborn mountain of his father.

The door creaked open and footsteps shuffled in. Awkward, Eren remembered. It was always awkward as hell with his dad around. Eren sat up against the headboard, looking on suspiciously as his dad stood in the middle of his bedroom and surveyed the room. Looking like a fish out of waters, the man pulled a study chair and sat down by his bed. His father's skin was much paler than his or his mom's. Eren remembered the wringing of the aged hands and those solemn eyes. For a man in his late thirties, his father looked much older, tenser…

—and wiser.

Silence filled the space between them.

Eren wasn't sure who was more nervous between him and his dad.

Grisha caught his eye.

'Hello son,' he greeted with a forced smile.

Eren was no gracious host. His nine-year-old self had spent the last two hours crying in bed. His wet pillow was glaring proof, and so was the hockey stick trashed in a corner. Eren turned to the walls, fixing his tear-stricken gaze on a pin-up of X-Men, particularly Wolverine brandishing his adamantine blades. Surrounded by his heroes, the boy felt smaller than a nine-year-old ought to. From the corner of his eyes, he watched his father remove his glasses. One hand went into his vest pocket to fish out a scrap of cloth. Having found it, the man began scrubbing the lens in that quiet, unremarkable way of his.

'I heard from your mother. You didn't make it to the team... is it?' his father trailed, struggling to find an opening.

Eren shrugged.

There was silence again, and his father passed it off with a nod.

'You know, son… I have had my own share of failures too. I know the feeling, Eren.'

With his resolute silence, Eren had hoped to get the message across to his father, that the man’s company was unwanted. But Grisha was slow on the uptake. His father stayed rooted to his bedside and seeing the man trying to empathize with him rankled Eren. Neither of his parents understood him. They didn't understand what it was like, standing outside the ice rink and seeing all the kids practicing with their dads. Each one of them beaming with pride. Jean with his military father, who was cooler than Grisha could ever be. Armin's parents were archaeologists. He didn't know what the hell an archaeologist did... but it had to be something cool.

While his own dad was a lousy guy always stuck at home.

Eren didn't have a clue to what he did for a living either.

The boy scowled.

'You’ve got no clue!’ he said to his father.

Grisha looked at him in surprise.

Eren picked up the puck he had kept by his pillow. In a fit of fury, he threw it to the floor. The puck fell with a resounding clang, making his father flinch. The boy didn't show a hint of remorse. 'You sit in your basement tinkering away on your projects. You don't know a thing about how it feels. Don't pretend you do.'

Outside, his mother heard all.

'Eren Jaeger, is that any way to talk to your father? Apologise to him right now, young man!'

But his father smiled, not the least bit offended.

‘It’s alright, Carla. It’s alright,’ he said.

Grisha turned to Eren again and watched him evenly. He gave a low sigh.

'It was just a game, son. Ice Jockey... was it?'

'HOCKEY! Ice Hockey! You can't even get the name right!' the boy howled. He let his elbows give under him, sank against the pillows and pulled the covers over his head. ‘Go away. You’re the lousiest dad ever!’

But his father showed no signs of leaving.

'I am sorry,' said his dad. 'You deserve better, you're right.'

Great. Now, Eren felt guilty about his little outburst.

'Just… go away,' he mumbled.

'Eren...'

'I said go away!' he snapped.

All went quiet, suddenly. Too quiet. There were sounds now. Of feet moving over the carpet. He heard his father fiddling with his junior school project. A replica of the solar system built a year ago. It was the only father-son thing they had ever done together. While other kids could boast about playing catch, camping and lighting s 'mores by the fire, all he remembered doing with his dad was making Jupiter and Uranus out of plastic foam balls. His dad never even got the Ur-anus joke either. And despite his misgivings about his father, Eren had to admit that he did inherit his love for the cosmos from the man. No one, he hated to admit it, but no one knew as much about space as Grisha did. He knew about stuff, which Eren couldn't even find in the pages of Britannica.

With a shake of his head, Eren dove deeper under the covers.

Eren heard movement and felt a hand on his shoulder.

The hand on his shoulder was warm and supportive.

'Your mother wanted me to tell you a story.'

Eren stiffened but said nothing.

'Go away,' he said again.

Grisha didn't and resumed speaking.

'I don't know stories, I admit. But I know the past. And people often say… that truth is stranger than fiction. Eren, have you heard about the Tunguska Event?'

'No, and I don't wanna sit through a lame history lesson right now.'

But his father persisted. The elder cleared his throat and began narrating, his hand never leaving the boy's shoulder.

'Let me tell you then. On June 30, the year 1908—’ he ignored the groans from his son and kept to his narration.  ‘—in Central Siberia, in the hours of dawn, people saw a giant fireball in the sky,’ Eren felt his father’s hand grip his shoulder tight. ‘Something touched the horizon, and there was an enormous explosion. It levelled forest and burnt thousands of trees in a flash fire near the impact site. Some sources say an atmospheric shock wave went twice around the earth. The only ones who witnessed it were the Tungus people of Siberia. Hence, it came to be known as the Tunguska Event,' his father paused, the hand on Eren’s shoulder going remarkably still, and the boy peered over the covers to find Grisha’s eyes blazing like the fireball in his story.

He found his father looking through the window at the sycamore trees outside.

His father pulled away his hand and returned the spectacles to the bridge of his nose.

'That's almost a hundred years ago, Eren. Back when communications were limited. Few people heard about it. The ones who did... Scientists thought antimatter made contact with the land. Others postulated that a mini black hole passed through earth. Some thought an extra-terrestrial spaceship had crash landed. No one knows the truth. Nobody knows the truth, except those responsible,' his father stopped and turned to Eren, his aged eyes glimmering behind his lens. 'What do you think happened, Eren? What do you think really happened out there in Siberia?'

Eren stared back at his father, wide-eyed.

'How the hell would I know? I am not even from Russia!'

Grisha gave a small laugh at that.

'Not even going to hazard a guess, son? No love for mystery?'

Eren shook his head before deciding against it.

'I dunno. Aliens?'

His father remained silent. He didn’t provide the answer, nor did he refute Eren’s theory. He ruffled the boy's messy brown hair and setting an object by Eren's elbow, he took his leave.

'Don't make your mother worry, alright?' was the last thing the man said.

It had been fourteen years since he first heard the story, and sitting in the bathtub of a love motel, Eren still remembered every word like it were yesterday. He didn't know why he was reminded of that weird ass story his father once told him. About Siberia. About the giant fireball in the sky. About an entire forest being wiped out. Anti-matter and black holes.

But what troubled him most… was the red planet his father had left on his bed.

Mars.

The God of War.

 

 

 

 

His head hurt from thinking too much. He sought solace from the mundane and so, Eren ran through his lessons, wondering if he still remembered them. Like Kepler. Yes, good ol' Kepler. One could never forget Kepler.

Eren worked out the theorems on his palm. Kepler's first law, second law and third—

The squares of the periods of the planets are proportional to... proportional to… what exactly?

He didn't remember. And for a moment, the feelings of anxiety returned, now two-fold and daunting. No matter how much he wracked his brain, he couldn't remember Kepler's Third Law. Great, he was so out of touch with college right now.

Armin.

Where was Armin when you needed him?

To add to his pile of troubles, the water stopped running.

Eren sat in the bathtub, his foamy skin glistening against the light, and he stared up at the shower head in shock. He tried the faucet. Nothing. He tried the geyser. No, not a single drop. Every faucet and pipe had run dry. He should have known better. A cheap motel wasn't going to give him the five-star treatment. He knew that. Of course, Eren knew that. But when a man gets into the shower, carrying two days' worth of grime, stink and sweat, the last thing he wants is for the water to stop running.

Cursing mildly under his breath, the brunet emerged out of the bathtub. He took one of the towels and wiped off the soap suds from the underside of his arms and legs. Then, he grabbed a navy-blue robe from the hanger and pulled it over his shoulders with a huff. Eren took a deep breath and tied the robe's sash, his thoughts still wrapped around Kepler's Third law and his inability to recollect how it went. Giving the bathroom a quick scan, he caught sight of his clothes hanging on the shower line.

If there was one saving grace, he'd managed to do some laundry. His Guns n Roses tee and his jeans were looped over the shower curtain, dripping a puddle on the tiled floor.

Levi was going to throw a massive fit, no doubt.

Yeah. The man could smell a mess from miles.

Eren ran a hand through his wet strands, wondering how he was going to break the news of the drought to Levi. He cast a gloomy look at his clothes again, disheartened at the loss of his shoes. They were all that remained of his mementos from home.

Looking more decent than he felt, he turned to the door but stopped. He could hear voices from the room. Yes… voices. Levi was talking to someone.

Captain and his secrets again.

Did he know people here?

How?

Was there another reason to why Levi was here in Utgard?

He couldn't make out the words from inside. With a sigh, Eren sat down at the edge of the bath tub. He peered at the key hanging around his bare neck, its metal cool against his chest. He wished he’d asked Mikasa about it. The reason why their father had been targeted by the State for more than a decade. He wondered if surrendering the Universal Gate Key could be a worthy bargain to get his father out of prison.

No.

That wouldn’t work.

Surrendering the gate key would achieve nothing. Negotiating with the State was even more foolish. The Titans did not leave things open-ended. He would only end up jeopardizing the future of Jean and Armin as well. No, that wouldn’t help.

There was just one man who knew the secrets of the key. A man who was a lousy father and an even lousier storyteller.

 

_What do you think happened, Eren?_

_What do you think happened out there in Siberia a hundred years ago?_

Mulling over those words, Eren raised a hand and scratched his nape. It shouldn't matter to him if his father was alive or dead. Eren had cut those ties a long time ago. Indeed, those glass coffins and nameless corpses in Titan's Research Lab still made him wonder if this road trip was worth it. Whether his _father_ was worth the rescue?

That was what his rational side said.

But why did his memories paint a different picture?

Perhaps, in the end, he was not here for the sake of his old man. But for his mom. She would have wanted Eren to do this, to give his father a second chance at redemption. Carla always believed in second chances.

Making up his resolve, Eren got up from his perch and walked out of the bath. He emerged out into the cool air conditioning and closed the door behind him. His presence didn't go unnoticed. Levi cut the communication link and tossed the ear piece on to the dresser. Giving Eren a cursory look, Levi rummaged through his pockets. He took four pods out and aligned them on the bed at the corners of the mattress. When he was done arranging, he took out a remote and switched them on.

The air buzzed and flickered into grid cells. Each one illumined, changing shades.

'Remember these?' Levi asked him, pointing to the pods.

Of course, Eren remembered.

Levi, at one time, had transferred his projection millions of light years to his dorm room. Their impromptu meeting had been interrupted by Connie, who to this day, believed that Eren's dorm room was haunted by the ghost of his uncle. Eren smiled at the memory.

He nodded.

‘Yeah,’ he said.

The peacekeeper looked on in amazement as a wide aerial view of a city formed in thin air, the 3D landscape covering the entire stretch of the bed. The blue projection shimmered as Levi navigated through the virtual city, moving his fingers to adjust the zoom.

'Is that—' Eren blurted out as he recognized the imagery. 'Holy cow,' the boy said and edged closer to the map. 'How did you get your hands on this?'

Levi smirked.

'Connections, Jaeger. To refresh your memory, cadet, I was a commanding officer in PeaceCorps.'

Eren smiled.

'Oh, really? I don't remember seeing your face, sir.'

He chuckled when Levi sent a glare his way.

Eren joined Levi at his side, turquoise green eyes never leaving the sight before him.

It was a near-perfect reproduction of Utgard. They could see the three cryovolcanoes that bordered the bubble city, at its east, northwest and southern ends. At the heart of the city was a large fortress, undoubtedly, the military base of Titan. It rose like the Colosseum of Rome, a monolithic monument between the skyscrapers. Levi zoomed into this structure, placing markers at each visible entrance. Sentinel posts were flagged, security checks highlighted. He rotated the view, allowing Eren to fully appreciate the design of the fortress ramparts. Levi scaled the height of its tall walls, but when he tried to open the military base, there was a red flash, and a sign of prohibition. The network denied him any further access.

Levi folded his arms and frowned at the projection.

Eren sat down cross-legged on the bed.

'Dead end?' he asked.

Levi nodded.

'A given. Too risky for them to go around revealing the layout of their top fortress.'

Eren looked at the projection again and pointed out the markers Levi had placed at the exits.

'How about we ambush the guards and force entry at any of these points?'

Levi shook his head, clearly not bowled over by the idea.

'Not with guts alone. It’s just the two of us. Between you and me, I have the means,' he said, pointing to the dresser where a gun was laid out over the trench coat. Levi pointed to Eren next. 'But you don't. Moreover, even if we do get in, we have no way of telling how the garrison soldiers would act. Nor do we know where your father is being held—'

'Can't we improvise?' interrupted Eren.

'Not without a ground plan,' said Levi.

Eren's eyebrows furrowed into a thin crease. He tapped his fingers on his knee, following the markers and the route through the city. Eren didn't like it. How Levi seemed to be giving up too easily.

He watched the projection uncertainly. 'I once read about this war general Moltke, you know,’ Eren said. ‘He said no plan extends with certainty beyond the first encounter with the enemy. That's what that guy said. We have to work with what we have.'

There was a silence, and Eren watched as Levi unplugged the projection. Utgard's 3D map vanished, and Levi sat down on the bed beside him. He was quiet as he stared at the rug beneath their feet. The cheap-ass rug and pest-ridden curtains were testament to their state.

'So… what's the plan?' Eren prompted.

Levi, for the first time, admitted to having none.

‘None so far.’

Eren turned and stared at him in disbelief.

'Yeah, right,' the brunet said. 'The day you don't have a plan is the day pigs start flying or it starts raining frogs or something.'

Levi returned a small smile and met Eren's questioning look with a nod. 'Let's get some rest, Eren. I am tired and so are you. We might figure out our next move in the morning or—' he trailed off and looked at Eren.

'Or?'

Levi frowned and leaned forward.

Eren shifted backwards in reflex.

'Or _what_?' the peacekeeper demanded, watching his movements warily.

Levi ignored the question.

'You smell good,' he said instead.

Eren quirked up an eyebrow. He brought up his hand and pressed an elbow to his nose, testing it. To his surprise, he did smell like soap and cream.

'Must be the soap. I couldn’t wash it off.'

'Soap?' asked Levi, leaning in closer to get a better whiff.

Eren chuckled and drew back, hitting the bedpost.  

'I knew it! You have a kink for soaps, don't you?'

'Heh,' said Levi, catching Eren's elbow. He gave a yank and reeled the boy in closer. 'If I may remind you, brat, I put up with your tentacle fetish all these years.'

'Christ, I don't have a—'

He was cut off when a hand slipped around his neck and drew him into a sloppy kiss. He hadn't expected it, suffice to say. One moment they were talking about strategy, breaking into a fortress and the next moment, they were making out.

He tried to get a word in.

'Whoa, whoa— seriously, we're doing this— like right now?' Eren asked between nips.

Levi paused against his lips.

'What's wrong with now?'

'For one,' Eren said, pulling the kiss to a hard stop. He caught his breath and pointed to the telescreen, where the Vigilante's masked face was popping up with a 'Have you seen this man?' header.

'Don't care,' Levi replied, closing the gap and tugging at Eren's lower lip again.

'Wait, hold on. Also, we are out of... water.'

This proclamation was enough to make Levi turn cold fish. The older man sat back, astounded.

'No water?' echoed Levi, sounding distressed.

Eren smirked.

'Nope. Not a drop, sir.'

 

 

 

They killed the lights but left the telescreen on mute.

Night fell. Ulkridge lit up in the darkness like an iridescent city, a city of fireflies. Fireflies which, in reality, were commercial billboards. The peacekeeper sat at the window, unable to look away from the walls of the prison fortress. He'd seen his share of the Titan World— Trost, Ulkridge, Stonehess, Maria... but Utgard was the icing on the cake. Quite literally. The bubble city sat perched at a high altitude, sheltered among the cryovolcanoes. The city wasn’t a home to commerce, trade or even bureaucrats. It served the military gods, as apparent from the number of uniformed soldiers on the street.

The sights unnerved him.

Especially the military fortress looming out there. The walls stretched as far as the eye could see. On the outer edge was the high parapet, an embankment walked by sentinels.

Even if they managed to get in, how would they find one old man in this block of concrete?

Levi was right. Improvisation wouldn't get them far. But sitting stuck in a love motel didn't sound useful either.

The dark-haired man was resting with his eyes closed, an elbow folded over his eyes.

Left to his own devices, Eren pondered in the silence. With his fingers wrapped around the metal of his key, he wondered what his friends were doing. Were they safe? Were they back at the inn, taxed with chores from Isabel?

Eren's friends also reminded him of the home he had left behind. How long had he been away from Earth?

The peacekeeper exhaled, as he reminded himself of his other responsibilities. Like how he needed to graduate college this year. Do the stuff normal people did. Armin would ace his finals, despite this stint on Titan. So, would Jean. Kirstein always scraped through stuff and made it look easy.

Graduation.

It was strange how he could envisage the futures of his friends but not his own.

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. For some reason, he didn't want to think about it.

The bathrobe clad young man left the spot by the window and climbed back on bed. He moved under the covers and laid his head to rest on the pillow. Much to his surprise, Levi brought down his elbow and peered at him with one eye.

'You can't sleep either?' Eren asked.

Levi shook his head.

Eren crawled closer and shifted under the covers until they lay side by side.

'We could always try counting sheep,' offered the younger.

A heavy pause.

'Sheep?' Levi asked.

'Yeah. Imagine sheep jumping over a fence,' Eren suggested in all seriousness.

'You're an idiot,' came the amused reply.

Eren turned on his side, his blue green eyes boring into the other man. The peacekeeper brought up a hand and tapped his head to explain.

'Hey, it's true. The brain needs to do something mundane to feel drowsy; it's the classic way of dealing with insomnia.'

'Is that so?'

'Yeah.'

There was another of those long silences and a lull in conversation. Eren sank back against the pillow, turning on his back. He shivered a little and pulled the covers to his shoulders.

Levi broke the quiet with a question.

'So, what do these sheep look like?'

Eren whirled around so quickly, he thought he pulled a muscle in his neck. His head shot up and he gave the older man an incredulous look.

'You haven't seen sheep? You've got to be kidding me.'

Levi shook his head.

'What about electric sheep?' asked Eren.

The dark-haired man said 'no' in an almost inaudible voice.

Eren turned back to the ceiling, surprise lining his features. The Titan world continued to confound him. Why did droid dogs exist but not droid sheep? Then again, he could guess why. It figured that no one would want a robosheep to bray all day at home. What good was a pack of fleece, anyway?

'So, what do these sheep look like?' prompted Levi again.

Eren curled his toes and scrunched up his eyebrows, deep in thought.

'Woolly,' he mumbled.

He fell silent for he could feel the man next to him smiling.

'What?' Eren demanded indignantly.

'You're making it up, aren't you?'

'Am not!'

A hand reached out, and Eren felt a finger trace his earlobe, tugging at it softly.

The peacekeeper smirked and turned on his side again. Blue green met grey.

'Fine, you got me. I haven't got a clue either.'

 

 

* * *

 


	85. Schemer

 

 

Chapter-85- Schemer

~.~

 

Heavy breathing had been the first sign. Followed soon by the weird, high-pitched squealing and the sounds of a bed creak.

'Oh… Oh… Ohhhhh yes.'

And that had to be the second.

Eren pressed a hand over his eyes, looking pained. He knew it. That this love motel idea was going to suck big time. It was 1 am in the world of Titan, and Eren had woken up to the most god-awful noise in the universe.

The sound of their neighbors getting it on.

'Yes. Yes, just like that! Oh—Oh My Goodness!'

At first, the peacekeeper winced and pulled a pillow over his head, trying to drown out the wanton moans and illicit sighs from the other side of the wall. He plugged his ears with his fingers and tried counting sheep again, hoping… or rather, pleading his brain to doze off. He figured he could pass these noises off as a dirty dream or a porno on a low budget. But when Eren heard the bedsprings squeak again and saw the adjoining wall shudder, sleep fled like Wee Willie Winkle chased by bloodhounds. Plaster and paint rained from the ceiling, rendering any notion of sleep to be impossible.

Eren pulled the pillow away from his face. He glared at the abstract painting above, wondering why people didn't have the decency to keep it down. The portrait trembled on its hinges, as the woman's voice grew louder and more obscene.

'Talk dirty to me… Oh baby, keep talking dirty to me!'

Eren let out a silent sigh.

The brunet began to count to three, urging himself to stay calm. Surely, climax couldn't be all that far. Especially with the way the woman was squealing and bouncing with delight.

'I'm there. I’m almost there!'

 _Dammit, woman. For the love of all that is pure and good, please get there already. Just get it over with_ , thought Eren.

There was a cry of ecstasy and a crash (a vase hit the floor). The bed next door groaned and turned silent, there was the rustle of sheets and finally... at long last, snoring.

_About time, dammit._

Eren shook his head in disbelief. This was definitely the worst road trip ever. Rubbing the remnants of sleep out of his eyes, the brunet pulled the pillow under him. He was grateful for the silence again, no matter how anxious it made him feel. Melancholy didn't suit him, he knew. The young man cast a furtive glance sideways, expecting to find Levi asleep.

Much to his surprise, the man was wide awake.

And, he was watching Eren, his grey eyes glimmering in the semi-darkness.

'Guess you heard it too, huh,' whispered Eren, unsettled by that ardent gaze. 'Did they wake you up?'

Levi said nothing before his lips curled into a lethargic smile.

'I wasn't sleeping,' he replied.

The confession was followed by a long, strained silence. Eren didn't know what made him do it. But he scooted closer, narrowing the gap between them. Resting his chin on a folded elbow, the young man reached out and ran a hand through Levi's hair. He swept the dark strands back, exposing more of the forehead. Levi's skin was cool from the air conditioning, cool to his touch. Eren pressed a thumb across a small scar near the crown of the forehead, tracing it wordlessly. The wound had healed, but it would take time for the blemish to fade.

Wounds were nothing new.

Eren had his own share of scars that he carried like a proud warrior. The line on his neck that Annie had carved so generously. The bruises he had suffered from the TJ's crash in the desert. His sprained ankle. The bite marks on his hand from all his panic attacks. The list was endless.

But for some reason, the scars on Levi didn't make Eren proud. Far from it.

For they were a reminder that this childhood hero of his was human too. Frightfully mortal. Eren had grown up on comics; he carried his role models to everywhere he went... but Eren Jaeger was beginning to realise the cold, hard truth about growing up. That in the real world, there were no superheroes. Just ordinary folks like the two of them. Just two people trying to eke out a living. Two men trying desperately to find some meaning in this chaos of life. Yes, some meaning for themselves and for others.

'Tell me something,' he asked Levi in a low whisper. 'Why?'

Levi gave him a questioning look.

'I mean, why Vigilante?' Eren asked again, tracing the scar on Levi's forehead a second time. 'What's with the Rorschach mask?'

'You know why,' was the other man's answer.

He watched as Levi closed his eyes and took a moment to savor Eren's touch on his forehead. It was one of those rare moments when the dark-haired man let his guard down and allowed Eren to comfort him. The brunet smiled, proud to be given that privilege.

'In a way, I do get it. But what's bugging me is why… you didn't ask for my help?'

Levi sighed.

'Because it's not your fight,' came the curt reply.

'It IS,' emphasized Eren, a scowl making its way across his lips.

Levi remained silent at the outburst. Eren took his silence for an opening. He drew back his hand and gestured at the space between them.

'Don't you get it still? Anything that concerns you is my problem too, Levi. I told you before, didn't I? I'll take anything that you can give and if that means all your problems, all your pain, your fights, let me shoulder it with you. I can handle it!'

Levi turned grave and shook his head.

'Not this time.'

Eren frowned, not liking that reply.

'You said I made you proud years ago. Then, let me help you. Let me prove my worth again. Just give me a chance—'

He didn't finish because a hand caught his elbow and pulled him forward. The peacekeeper found himself caught in a huddle of arms. A heavy set of arms. Levi's chin lowered to rest on top of Eren's head, locking the younger in place. It was an intimate hold, one which Eren had certainly missed over these past months.

'What the hell? I was still talking— trying to make my point, yo— ' Eren grumbled.

Lips nuzzled his brown hair, caressing them in the silence.

'You need to stop talking,' said Levi. 

'But I had this whole speech planned out.'

'Save it for another day.'

Eren fumed. But his displeasure didn't last long for his face was pressed down against Levi's neck and an arm was still curled around him as if rocking him to sleep. It wasn't a position that gave him much leeway to complain. For he could hear the beating of a heart. That calm inhale and exhale of the lungs. Plus, it was difficult to stay furious when he was being treated like a squish toy. Not that Eren minded. He didn't remember the last time that they had a moment like this to themselves.

'Hey,' prompted Eren, not conceding defeat.

He heard his guardian sigh.

'... what now?'

'Why didn't you tell me... that you liked kids?'

'I like kids?'

'Sure do, Mr Godfather.'

There was a rumble of laughter from the throat adjacent.

'Sounds like someone is jealous,' noted the dark haired man.

'Jealous?' Eren repeated, feigning a scoff. 'Who? Me? Naaaah... Why would I be jealous of a kid? I'm more mature than that.'

Eren blinked, craning his neck and looking at the muted images on the telescreen. Late night tv was horrible no matter which planet you were on.

'Hey Levi,' he called again.

'Hm?'

'I was thinking,' he trailed.

'What?' Levi prompted.

'When all this blows over, I was thinking that maybe we could…'

'We could?'

Eren blinked, wondering if he should say it. He shifted slightly, nestling into the pillow again. He gazed at the ceiling and avoided the grey eyes of the other man.

'I thought we could adopt a kid or two. You know, start a family.'

'Family?' repeated Levi, his face losing color.

'Yeah,' said Eren. 'Hear me out. I mean, it could be a girl. Or a boy. Hell, we could adopt both. I mean... I think we'd make a good team,' the young man sighed, surprised at his own candor. He didn't know why he had brought it up. Because out loud, the suggestion sounded more naive and stupid than inside his head. Eren motioned between the two of them, a small smile flitting across his lips. He was already building the imaginary home in his mind, one brick at a time. A place with a good sun. A place by the beach, white sands and where you could hear the waves crashing against the rocks. 'Yeah,' he reiterated. 'We'd be a great team. You could teach the kid how to be a ninja... while I'll teach them the ropes about how to stay out of trouble and maybe, yeah, maybe even help out with homework. And hey, if I can't, there is always Armin. Plus, Krobe can be the family mascot. He can be the kids' watchdog-cum-babysitter,' Eren frowned as he remembered the mutt. 'He'd be a lousy watchdog, though. He's more suicidal than me, you know. Did I tell you about the stunt he pulled—'

He could imagine Levi smiling and ceased speaking. What the heck was he prattling on about?

'Sorry,' said Eren.

'Why are you apologising now?'

'I am saying stupid stuff again, aren't I? Forget it.'

Levi shook his head and ruffled his hair again.

'No. That doesn't sound bad.'

Eren perked up.

'Really?'

'Yes. But there is one problem, Jaeger.'

'... What's that?'

'I have my hands full with one brat already.'

Eren gave a low growl and punched his bicep.

'Damn you. I am not a kid.'

'I know. Trust me, Eren, I do _know,'_ said Levi, motioning to their tangled legs. Eren shrank away in embarrassment. He had hoped the other man wouldn't notice his troubled state. 

'Thought you said you couldn't get it up,' Levi teased.

The peacekeeper grimaced, ears going slightly red. He scooted backwards and hoped to preserve what little remained of his dignity.

'Eren junior always chooses the wrong time to rise to the occasion,' he grumbled, fixing his bathrobe.

Levi watched him with those half lidded eyes of his before reaching out and wrestling the younger into an arm hold. Eren managed a smile as his eyes met grey. His uneasiness didn't go unnoticed.

'You scared for tomorrow? Is that it?' asked Levi.

Eren scrunched up his face and rolled his fingers into a fist.

'Pfft,' he said. 'Scared? Who the hell is _scared?'_

Levi gauged his answer.

'You're still pathetic at lying.'

There was a small pause, and Eren swallowed the dry lump in his throat.

'Okay, maybe a _little_ ,' he confided, dropping the fist. ‘But it’s just nerves.’

It was Levi's turn to comfort him. The older man brought up his hand and rubbed circles on Eren's back, relieving some of the tension.

'Don't be,' whispered Levi. 'You are brave, soldier; I have seen you tackle situations a lot worse than this.'

Eren let out a sigh.

'Easy for you to say. You don't have a war criminal for a dad. And may I remind you, we still don't have a plan, Captain.'

Remembering the task ahead, Eren wondered if his father was still alive. And if he was, Eren didn't know how he would react to Levi... or to the fact that his only son was hitched to a wanted arsonist.

The brief quiet was broken by a creak of the bed springs and the painting began to shake on its hinges again. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard a moan filter into their room.

Eren looked up and gave the wall an incredulous look.

No way!

'Oh man, you've got to be kidding me. They can't be going for a second round already!' the brunet chanced a glance at the clock. 'It's effing 2 AM!'

Eren Jaeger had every intention of going over, banging on the wall and giving the folks next door a piece of his mind. But Levi caught his wrist and pulled him back down.

'Come on,' pleaded Eren. 'We can't spend the night listening to this!'

'No, we don't have to.'

'What do you suggest we do?' Eren hissed, quirking up an eyebrow.

Levi caught the sash to Eren's bathrobe and untied it. The peacekeeper caught the sliver of a mischievous smile on the older man's face.

'How about we give them a run for their money?' came the suggestion.

 

 

 

 

He woke up some hours before daybreak, feeling hot and sweaty. He was nestled between the arms of the older man; Levi was staring at the ceiling, clearly wide awake. Just as Eren was wondering whether it would not be a good idea to get up and have a cold bath, Levi's voice spoke from the darkness.

'Can't sleep?'

The younger man yawned, grateful for the fact that the noises had ceased next door. 'Whattimesit?' Eren asked him drowsily. 'What's with the temperature?'

'Three,' Levi replied, rubbing his shoulder. 'Sshh. We've still got a few more hours.'

Eren didn't need a second invitation and nuzzling his head into the pillow, he dozed off again.

When Eren woke up next at the crack of dawn, the spot beside him was cold and empty. He looked around groggily, scanning the room. Levi wasn't around, but Eren took comfort in the sounds of the running shower. A steady rhythm of pitter-patter. The lights were out, but the telescreen was switched on, streaming breaking news from the heart of Utgard. Eren tried to sit up when he felt a sharp pressure on his wrist. He looked up at his hand and discovered it.

His right hand was handcuffed to the headboard.

Eren blinked at it, puzzled.

What the heck—

He recognised the handcuffs.

He gave the metal bindings a firm shake, trying to squeeze his fist out of it. He looked at the closed door of the bathroom, waiting for it to open and an explanation to emerge.

'Levi! LEVI! This isn't funny. Come on, let me out–'

There was no answer. The shower kept running, the sound of water pouring down over the tiles. Suddenly, it hit him. Eren remembered how he’d never closed the faucet the night before. Meaning...

There was no one inside.

He looked around frantically, recognising all the signs.

The dresser set to order. The pods and the gun missing. The key to his handcuffs set on the table, far from his reach. What worried him was the most telling sign of all.

The trench coat was gone.

 

 

 

 

 

Hitch was bored.

The woman with flaxen hair and a knobby, thin nose had just called it a day, as she left the media room of UN207. Despite her thrilling minute by minute coverage of The Ritz Hostage Situation and her last week's scoop on the First Ever Android who claimed to Dream, Hitch did not find herself any close to that promotion she'd been promised. Or any closer to that luxury penthouse with a whirlpool that she'd been eyeing on the infomercials. Her career had gone as stagnant as her social life.

She picked up a magazine from the deck of her car (yes, not everyone were sanctioned TJ's as part of the job description, not unless they were sleeping with the uppers or unless they were the network's poster girl like a certain Mikasa Ackerman). The fact that Mikasa was naturally good at what she did... did not occur to the flaxen haired girl. Instead, Hitch engrossed herself with the emerging scandal on the actors of Desperate Husbands. And that was when Gale interrupted her reading with an incoming transmission.

Hitch gave a brief glance at her watch.

'Who is it, Gale?'

'Marlowe Freudelang.'

Hitch tossed her hair behind her shoulder, wondering if she ought to pick up. Sighing, she pressed the green button, and Marlowe's enthused voice filled the air.

She wished it had been anyone but him. Stupid Marlowe with his equally stupid haircut. Today, he sounded excited and trippy with disbelief.

'Hitch! You still on the premises? Where are you?'

The reporter sighed. 'Yes, I am still here. And if you're thinking about asking me out… or worse, sending me on some assignment at this unholy hour, we need to talk about my raise. I don't care if the viewers find the birth of a cow interesting. But I draw the line—'

'Hitch,' Marlowe cut her.

'I draw the line at anything that involves body fluids. I'll have you know that there are other channels headhunting me—'

Marlowe interrupted her again.

'They caught him,' he said. 'Do you hear me? They caught him.'

The girl grew quiet.

'Caught who?'

'That guy... The Vigilante. It's all over the news.'

'You're kidding me.'

Marlowe gave a husky laugh.

'No, I kid you not. And the higher ups want you to cover it. Exclusive, special, any jack shit that you can dig up on the guy. So, pack your bags and go to Utgard, pronto.'

Hitch frowned and reached for her purse, trying to assimilate all that she had heard. 'Utgard?' she repeated. 'But wait, who tipped him off?'

Marlowe's answer surprised her even more.

'Nobody, Hitch. He surrendered,' the man said. 'It's hard to believe, but the man surrendered.'

 

 

 

Eren sat against the headboard, his eyes glued to the telescreen. He had been watching the images hypnotically, unable to look away. The images were on a loop and seemed to have been captured by a surveillance camera at the plaza. He couldn't make out what the reporter was saying. In the end, words didn't matter.

A picture could speak a thousand words.

He watched the shadow of a man walking to a busy intersection, his steps brisk and agile. The man stopped before the statue of Lady Justice. Eren could see the vehicles screeching to a stop. Eren had memorised every step, every turn. The man reaches for the gun in his vest. He draws it out, raises his arm and takes aim. One clean shot fired at the statue. The figurine is intact but there is a gaping hole in the plate of infinity that she holds.

Everything after that is a blur. The Military Police arrive, swarm the scene like a pack of hyenas and force the man to his knees.

And again, the pictures stream from the beginning.

Infinite loop.

Again and again.

Eren clenched his fingers into a ball and glared furiously at the grainy figure.

He'd been duped. Left behind all over again.

 

 

_'So, what's the plan?'_

_'I don't have one.'_

 

 

Liar, liar.

Pants on fire.

Anguished, Eren pressed his free hand across his eye. Tugging at his handcuffs, the peacekeeper tried to think of a way. Something. Anything. Any way to get out of this mess. He wasn't afforded the chance... for there was a knock.

The young man looked up and stared at the door.

* * *

 


	86. Jailbird

 

 

Chapter-86- Jailbird

~.~

 

There were stories that spanned generations. Like the ones Isabel's grandmother told her when she was growing up. The tale of Maél, the sun god. Stories about oceans, myths of the desert king 'Sargonas' and about a faraway world called Earth. Stories that encompassed their rich history, heritage and hope. The Magnolias were a close-knit family, who believed in having dinner together, in drinking to each other's health, in lending a hand to a family member in distress and most importantly... they believed in never letting go of what was rightfully theirs.

Like this inn.

Once upon a time, the Magnolia family had been the proud owners of Chromium Shark, a traveler’s inn in Trost. Bed and breakfast; the smell of spices and banverno dates; the constant din of laughter and gossip. Of course, Chromium had not stood on the arid plains of Maria back then. The inn had a place in the urban landscape of Trost. But that was years ago, before the tides went against them, before the State began its ethnic cleansing. Often, by using unfair and despotic means.

Isabel's grandmother Carmela was forced to migrate to Maria, having been uprooted by State Eugenics Officers on the pretense of having mixed genetics. Filthy blood, they called it. Degenerates. They called it 'weeding', others called it a 'silent genocide'. With false charges framed against them and taxes unfairly hiked, the Magnolias were forced to move to the subpar. Of course, Isabel's grandmother didn't take it lying down. Carmela Magnolia put up a strong resistance, all thanks to her fiery Latina blood. Even when the court ruled against them, when all seemed lost, Carmela snubbed officers with a 'Hierba mala nunca muere', pelted stones on their TJs and cursed them.

There had been tears, no doubt. A pain that wasn't easily forgotten and a pride wounded.

What do you do when all is lost? When the government snatches away everything you had built from the ground up? Your work, your money, your potted plants and your home. How do you start over?

But Carmela Magnolia didn't lose heart. Upon arriving in Maria, the first thing she did was to buy a plot of land. She didn't have much money, but she had a nose for a good bargain... a skill that would outlast her through her line of descendents. Having secured a land in Maria, she began next the painstaking process of building her inn from dust.

As Isabel cooed to Sol resting in her crib, rubbing the baby's belly and nuzzling Sol's nose with her own, she began to wonder about that old grandma of hers. She was reminded of Carmela. What would her grandmother say if she knew that Isabel had turned her once beloved inn into a base for rebels?

Probably the same remark that the Iron Lady once made about Magnum.

 _He is brave, bonita,_ her grandmother had said. _Brave but a silly ass._

Isabel's hands stilled, and she gazed into the distance absentmindedly, her mind pondering on those last words.

Sol blinked at her mother. The infant opened her mouth and closed it again, saliva pooling at her chin. Isabel recognised the signs all too well. Before her daughter could begin crying, Isabel picked up the child into her arms. She held her baby to her chest and rubbed circles on Sol's back, humming to her in comfort.

'Sshh, it's alright.'

The gentle rocking did the trick, and Sol began to quiet down. Isabel pulled back and pecked her daughter on the cheek warmly, cooing to her again.

'You look just like your father. I am not sure that's a good thing, gumdrop.'

Sol turned her head, speaking a silent language with those expressive green eyes of hers. The baby opened her mouth and closed it again, unable to form words but trying to reach out to her mother.

Isabel gave in to her child’s request. She pressed her forehead against the child's and waited.

'What are you trying to tell me?'

Sol made a noise that sounded halfway between a whine and a giggle.

Isabel smiled at her attempt.

'One day, you'll be able to speak, my love. There's no need to hurry, I can wait. I can wait as long as you want… When I first met your father, he couldn't speak to me either. He’d just stammer and gawk at me. He’d drop by for tea and yet all he'd manage was t–t–tea,' said Isabel, smiling at the memory of a stuttering Magnum. 'Amante was a mess but he was always dropping by for a cup of tea. Mornings, afternoons, evenings. Never failed to appear. Once he knocked on my door at one in the night. Yes, you heard that right. At 1 am! Your granddad had to chase him away with a rifle. But Sol... you know the real funny part?'

Sol yawned... but that didn't sway her mother's resolve to finish her story.

'Your father,' Izzie smiled with a hint of sadness. '— he hates tea,' Isabel concluded.

She paused, looking outside through the window.

'Love makes you do stupid things,' she trailed, looking forlorn. 'I mean, look at your godfather. He's an idiot too.'

At the mention of her godfather, the baby let out another giggle, and the sound made Isabel's heart flutter.

The moment of peace was interrupted, for there was a knock on the door. The redhaired woman turned and found Farlan standing against the doorframe. The rebel leader looked sleep-deprived and careworn. But at the sight of Isabel, Farlan Church managed a small smile.

'She's being a handful, huh?' he asked.

Isabel nodded as she set the infant down in her crib again. She tucked Sol under a blanket before turning back to face Farlan.

'Did they find him?' she asked, weaving her hands into her long hair and pulling it into a bun.

Farlan shook his head. He remained rooted to his spot, looking hesitant with his hand around the doorknob.

'No... Not yet, Izzie. The search is still on. I just came… to check up on you.'

The petite woman cast him a harried look. 'Check up on me? I am alright, Farlan.' she pressed her fingers at the edge of her lips and forced a smile. 'See?'

Farlan didn't buy her act.

'You don't have to fool me, Izzie. Get some sleep... please?'

Isabel sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

'I am fine,' she snipped.

'You don't sound it.'

There was a silence— a tense silence filled with questions and doubts— and the two could hear the clock ticking away in the room. Isabel crossed her arms and looked at her old friend, her gaze narrowed.

'I can't sleep, alright? How do you expect me to go to bed, when he's out there somewhere!' she hissed, a stray tear streaming down her cheek. 'I am worried about him, Farlan. It's not like Magnum to disappear without a word, I keep telling you, but you won't believe me.'

The rebel leader watched her mutedly. The fingers around the doorknob clenched and unclenched, as if he were searching for the right words to speak, to console and put her fears at bay.

'Ours,' Farlan began. '— is a dangerous line, Izzie. There are always risks involved. Magnum knows it,' Farlan paused and averted his gaze to the child sleeping in her crib, '–- and you've known it too.'

Isabel gave him a long, hard stare. It was a look that would make stronger men crumble, but Farlan stood by his words.

'You and _hermano_ are the same,' was all she said. 

He hadn't expected that retort.

'What's that supposed to mean?' he asked.

'Nothing,' said Isabel, her voice still sounding strained. 'Magnum will come back to me; I know he will. He loves us. He will find a way.'

Farlan nodded in reluctance. He turned to leave and began to close the door after him but stopped to look at the redhead again.

'Izzie,' he called.

She didn’t turn to face him, her attention fixed on her child. She reached out and stroked Sol’s hair, smoothing it.

'What is it now?'

'You need rest, Izzie,' Farlan reminded her again. 'The boys are doing all they can; I am speaking to some folks at the party, asking if they know where he went. Meanwhile, get some sleep and…'

'And?'

'And whatever you do, don't watch the news.'

Isabel turned to him with a frown.

'Don't watch the news? _Why?'_

 

 

 

 

 

There was a knock on his door. Erwin Smith didn't look up as two men shuffled in and took their seats at the oblong glass table. He heard Mike sniff the air, as if the man could sense trouble with his nose alone. His counterpart, Dita Ness was not as gifted. The bandana wearing, poncho toting Senior Lieutenant of the PeaceCorps looked perplexed, having been jolted awake from an afternoon siesta when Erwin called for an emergency meeting. In a career spanning over a decade, with a great deal of his years spent in classrooms educating youngsters, Dita had come to detest high level executive meetings. It was the first sign of trouble. And if there was anything Dita hated, it was trouble when he was supposed to be on off duty.

The Senior Lieutenant cleared his throat, announcing their presence to Erwin.

In answer, the blue eyed PeaceCorp commander pressed a finger to his lips and directed their attention to the telescreen. _Take your seats_ , he told them in a smooth voice. Dita and Mike turned to the screen and discovered what had all of Erwin Smith's attention. Dot Pixis was addressing a press conference. And by the smile on his thin, gaunt face, Pixis seemed to be enjoying the limelight.

'Yes, ladies and gentlemen,' said Pixis, his smile weaning into all seriousness. His scratchy voice rose with every word and grabbed the attention of all those who were present in the press conference room as well as those beyond. 'I am pleased to inform you all, that we have in our custody, the man who calls himself 'Vigilante',' Pixis announced for the benefit of the crowd.

There was a grave silence…

… before the reactions poured in.

The gallery of journalists broke into a chorus of gasps and murmurs; few began to shoot questions immediately. The body of gentlemen in the first two rows stood up, and hell broke loose with each man trying to drown out the other. Everyone vied for the attention of the Army Commander; each sprung and ready for their big fat cover story. The PR representative of the Titan Army held up her hands, pleading to the gallery to respect the decorum of the house. She requested the press to be seated and to ask one question at a time. While the throng of reporters were forced to settle down, Dot Pixis tapped his audio piece and leaned in, his aged eyes gauging the crowd's faces.

'Ahem,' he cleared his throat. 'As I was saying, yes,' he sighed, inducing a bit of melodrama into his tone. For a man who spent most of his time watching the world, he basked in the attention of the world this time. '—the fugitive has been apprehended. All thanks to the combined efforts of our intelligence team and task force. It was an A.G.I.L.E operation,' he caught sight of a reporter waiting to voice a question and beat him to it. 'And no, NO,' he emphasized, his gaze narrowing. 'It's my prerogative to put certain rumors to rest. Our man did not surrender as some of you have been led to believe. Do not undermine our efforts. I assure you, he was caught hook, line and sinker,' Pixis said, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

There were murmurs again.

A reporter in the first row held up his hand. He asked a question, which went unheard by the cameras.

Pixis slumped back, boredom settling into his stoic expression.

'No. I apologise, my dear fellow, but we cannot disclose the identity of the Vigilante. That is classified information. I do assure you that preliminary investigations are underway,' he paused, letting the silence consume the moment. 'But mark my words, ladies and gentlemen, my dear people of Titan,' his voice rising in a crescendo. Pixis stared directly into the camera lens. 'Justice will be served upon our collective conscience. No crime will go unpunished. At the end of the day,' he paused, his eyes twinkling with charisma. 'Titan shall prevail and it will always prevail. That is all I had to say. Adjourned.'

The bald man stepped back from the podium. As he made to leave, he was quickly surrounded by three GT bodyguards and Rico Brzenska, who gave him a nod, affirming his speech.

But the press wouldn’t let him go so quickly. As Dot Pixis reached the exit, journalists came down swarming like vultures, circling the commander and wrestled for his attention. They jabbed their recorders at him, demanding for that one last comment, which would clinch their story.

'Sir!' began one. 'SIR! This is Mckenzie from Trost News. We have veritable sources in Utgard, and they claim that the man capitulated. That he surrendered. That... this was no encounter as the Army leads us to believe. Do you have any comments on that?'

Pixis pursed his lips in a thin line. He stopped and gave the man a cold stare. 'My dear man,' he began, his voice dropping a few notches low. 'If you choose to believe rumors over my statement, go right ahead,' said Pixis and returned a benevolent smile. 'After all, every man is free to believe what he wants. _But_ if you choose to publish such drivel in the media, _If_ you decide to go ahead with that nonsense story, I will get a libel action issued against your godforsaken media house before you can even so much as utter the word 'Utgard',' Pixis finished with a vengeance. He let his gaze roam through the circle of reporters. 'Are we on the same page, people?'

There was a nervous silence.

One brave woman ground her teeth.

'Is that a threat, Commander Pixis? Are you trying to intimidate the media? Are you trying to stifle the people's right to know?' she demanded.

Pixis gave a small laugh that showed all his teeth.

'Oh, no, dearie me. I’m not threatening you folks. All I ask is for _patience_. I do not want to be misquoted,  misunderstood, that is all. The interests of Titan are paramount to all of us, rest assured.'

With that, the balding commander turned, leaving his audience bitter and confused at his departure. They watched on helplessly as Pixis was escorted out by his guards and Rico.

'Off,' said Erwin, and the telescreen went blank.

Dita Ness blinked at it, feeling lost and puzzled. He watched Erwin take a redux pen into his hand. Dita pulled a face, his eyes still locked on to the screen.

'Am I the only one… who feels out of the loop? Would someone care to explain what just happened?'

Beside him, Mike smiled. He didn't have details, but Mike was a man who could put two and two together. Nine times out of ten, his hunches were usually on the mark. He turned to Erwin and caught the troubled expression on his old friend's face.

'Let me guess,' trailed Mike. 'The fugitive in their custody. He was one of us...?'

Erwin shook his head.

'Is,' the man corrected. 'He still _is.'_

Mike cocked up an eyebrow. 'Is that so? You’ve been consorting with the rebels? How did the man end up in jail then? Your plans have never failed before, Erwin. You losing your touch?' he half-joked.

Dita's head turned to and fro between them, as if he were watching a game. He searched for the missing link, something to make sense of what was going on. He was spared the trouble.

Erwin smiled at Mike.

'On the contrary, our plans are just beginning,' he turned to the man wearing the bandana. 'Dita,' he called.

'Y-Yes, Commander Smith?'

'Issue a directive to all squads. Keep it off record. No official channels. Make sure none of the uppers find out.'

Dita nodded enthusiasm. 'Yes, sir. And... what is this oh-so-confidential message?' he asked.

Erwin's glance returned to the blank telescreen. His silence weighed heavy.

‘It’s time to choose sides.’

 

 

 

 

Barlett's Auto Repair was a small workshop set up in Meridian Zone 7. Barlett, its potbellied owner, single-handedly managed all oilwork, auto repairs and customer complaints. Considering that Meridian Zone 7 was not exactly a hotspot and that he got no more than three customers in a week, it was suffice to say that Digby Barlett was a jack of all trades. But every once in a while, every once in a blue moon, Barlett was faced with a problem that baffled him completely.

Mikasa's jeep was one such riddle.

He knocked on the hood with his spanner, while the young woman stood by him with her arms crossed. Mikasa Ackerman tapped her foot restlessly– beautiful woman but the very virtue of impatience. Barlett didn't mind it. He was currently on cloud nine and refused to step down. The fact that a top-notch reporter had come down to his garage, asking for his help… yes, that was enough reason to put him on cloud nine and keep him there.

'So?' the reporter prompted, a sense of urgency evident in her voice.

The man in the track suit turned to her, wide-eyed.

'So?' Barlett humored her back.

Mikasa pulled a grimace out of her thin inventory.

'Can you fix it?' she asked. 'That's what I’m asking.'

Barlett knocked on the engine, listening to the sounds. He scrunched up his nose and pressed his ear to it, as if waiting for the engine to speak up and profess its weaknesses.

'Well, Ms Ackerman,' he began, '—that depends on how much you can cough up and how long you can wait, ma'am,' said Barlett, slipping her a toothy smile.

'Not a minute,' answered Mikasa irritably. 'I need to catch up with someone, and I've already lost a good deal of time in towing this junk all the way here. So, I’m asking you again, mister. CAN. YOU. FIX. IT?'

Barlett looked uncertain and refrained from replying. It was Armin who answered on the man's behalf. Or rather, whistled on his behalf.

Mikasa turned to the workbench, where Armin was perched on a stool and scribbling away something on paper. Krobe, his ever faithful lackey, sat by his elbow and barked its encouragement at intervals. Mikasa glared at the two hipsters.

'What?' she asked.

Armin gave her a pointed look.

'I didn't say anything.'

'Why did you whistle?'

Armin sighed and shrugged. 'I’m afraid that if you think we can still catch up with them… you are dead wrong, lady.'

Mikasa narrowed her gaze.

'How do you know?'

Armin smirked and raised his sheet of paper. Mikasa walked over to him and looked at it.

'What's this?' she asked.

Armin tapped his head with the blunt end of his pen. 'I did some calculations. Your TJ goes at 840 miles per hour, earthen equivalent. Correct?'

'Yeah. So?'

'Well, I observed that we were going at about 400 miles per hour, give or take. Which means…'

'Which means?'

'Which means that if this were a race, we are the goddam rabbit still sleeping at halfway point,' the boy finished with a smug smile. 'Math never lies, lady.'

Mikasa's shoulders slumped in defeat.

'What's your point?'

'That Eren and the masked dude could be anywhere in Utgard by now, enjoying a nice cup of tea so forget about catching up with them.'

The reporter sighed. 'Defeat' was a word that did not figure in her dictionary. The woman in the bomber jacket turned to the telescreen and caught sight of the moving images. She was struck dumb momentarily, because she saw something. A grainy figure walking up to the Statue of Justice and taking aim at it. A grainy figure that looked all too familiar.

'Nice cup of tea, huh?' Mikasa echoed and finished with an expletive.

 

 

 

 

 

It had been four hours since his surrender... or to quote high officials, it had been four hours since the Titan Army compromised the target, executed a premediated encounter and captured him. But now that they had The Vigilante in custody, nobody knew what to do with him. He figured he ought to sound the alarm next time. Maybe even bring along a brass band to announce his coming before the big ass fortress doors.

Because Utgard's garrison guards seemed to be in the worst pickle.

They didn't know what to do with him.

'Any orders yet?' the first guard asked the other, keeping a wary eye on the masked hood in front of them

'None, they've asked us to stay put,' came the swift answer.

Officer Thames gave a mild groan. He was a jaded fellow, who wore his badges crooked and seemed oddly restive. He looked at the captive, frowning a little.

'Tell me, Costello, does that mask give you the heebie-jeebies?' he remarked. 'Because it sure as hell, gives me the heebie-jeebies.'

'Tell me about it,' agreed the other listlessly.

There was a heavy pause, as the two men gave the woofer a forlorn glance.

'Is it really him, Costello?' prodded the first.

'Looks like him. He hasn't denied the chargesheet, has he?'

'And what does the bloody thing say, anyway?'

The guard Costello strode over to the desk and pulled a monitor up. He keyed in a number and pulled up the record. The man let out a low appreciative whistle as he read through it.

'Arson, Terrorism, Damage to State property, Illegal possession of firearms, Battery, Dacoit, Intimidation, Pilferage of Central intelligence and it goes on and on...' he paused, looking at the inkblot face in honest amazement. 'You did all that?'

The Vigilante turned to give him a languid glance.

'You fans? Want an autograph?' the man asked in return.

Thames chuckled.

‘Oh, so he has a smart mouth too? What else did they find on him, Costello?

The guard next read out the itinerary of objects they had discovered on the captive's person.

'Grappling gun, Ruger P87, Vial of nanodroids but no communication devices, no drugs and... some personal effects. A ring.'

'A ring?' asked his companion, turning puzzled.

'Yes, that's what it says here,' said Costello.

There was a buzz on the woofer. The two guards stood in rapt attention as if they were being watched.

'Costello and Thames, bring the subject to Loft's Interrogation Room.'

'YES SIR!' they went.

'And be alert, do you copy?'

'Yes,' answered Costello, looking warily at the captured man.

The captive didn't seem to be listening in. The dots in the mask swirled as they settled into a new pattern. But the man's gaze did not move from the table. Or from the ring.

 

 

 

* * *

 


	87. Captive

 

Chapter-87- Captive

~.~

 

 

 

One girl professed to have seen Magnum.

The rundown warehouse matched the description given by the girl's father, but not so much the picture that Jean Kirstein held in his hand. The establishment loomed over them like a brooding monument; a building three floors tall with boarded up windows and the nauseating stench of ammonia. Jean stalled at the door, his gaze flickering between the building and the picture Marco's _puella_ had drawn for their benefit. Jean looked at the crude drawing and squinted up at the building again. The colors of vermillion and orange did not do justice to the place, couldn’t lift its wretchedness. The paint was cracked; the tiles had lost their sheen. Despite its colors, the warehouse looked dark, tumbledown and on the verge of falling apart.

Jean turned to the crayon picture again. Cute but not quite detective worthy material. He figured it was the thought that counted.

'Either the kid is a real peach, or she's got to be color-blind,' remarked Jean, letting out a small scowl.

Marco swept past him and caught hold of the doorknob. He gave it a firm rattle, but the door wouldn't budge.

'Locked,' pronounced Marco to no one in particular. He scanned the neighborhood before turning to look back at Jean. The peacekeepers exchanged worried glances. 'What do we do now? Go back to the inn?'

Jean rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'Go back?' he echoed, frowning. 'Sock it, Marco Polo. I'm not going back empty handed to that devil woman. Isabel will chew us out.'

It was Marco's turn to give him a strange look.

'Door’s locked though.’

Jean grinned. 'I don't know about you Titans. But if we Earthlings see a closed door, we break it open.'

Marco sighed. He wasn't keen on the idea as much as Jean was.

The freckled man gave a shaky smile. He scanned the neighborhood, taking in all the alleys where danger could be lurking. 'I hope to God that was a metaphor, Jean. But are you really planning on breaking in?'

The ashbrown flexed his fingers, curling them into a fist.

'Why, it's elementary, Dr Watson,' quipped the younger man, punching the air to prove his point. 'That's exactly what we’re going to do. Stand back.'

The mention of Watson seemed to baffle Marco for a moment as he stepped back. Jean caught the quizzical expression on his face.

'Sherlock Holmes,' explained Jean and drew a blank from Marco. 'Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?' he offered next. 'Oh, c’mon, I thought you were a bookworm.'

The freckled man apparently hadn't even heard of Sherlock. Jean shot his companion a surprised look and promised to lend Marco the detective novel. The peacekeeper pulled back and ran his hands along the door frame.

Marco observed him quietly.

'You know, Jean… you and Eren are like two peas in a pod.'

Jean stilled and threw Marco a dirty look.

'Take that back. Call me names, but don't ever compare me to that idiot. We are NOT alike, man.'

Marco merely smiled. 'But it’s true.'

Jean shook his head dejectedly.

'I swear that kamikaze idiot is growing on me like a leech.'

'A leech you wouldn't mind risking your life for, huh?' asked Marco.

There was a pause as Jean took two steps back.

'Yeah,' he admitted. 'That's the trouble with good guys like me. We never know when to quit.'

Having said that, Jean drew in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He raised one knee and drove the heel of his foot against the door. The kick came hard and swift, the force sending the door shuddering back against the hinges.

The ashbrown keeper dusted his hands, looking rather pleased with himself. 'Glad those Taekwondo lessons came in handy,' he said as they entered the dark cavern of the warehouse. The creaking of wood was all that greeted them at first. They waited for the dust to settle before they decided to step up.

'Hello?' called Marco. 'Anybody here?' he bellowed. 'Magnum! Magnum, can you hear us?'

No answer.

'MAGNUM!' yelled Jean, more impatient and louder of the two.

Again, no one answered.

The two men fumbled their way into the darkness, scraping their knees against metal and rough corners. They groped for obstacles blindly until Marco found the lights and switched them on. Low hanging bulbs illuminated what looked like a large hallway, packed with crates. They heard squeaks as rodents scurried for cover. Monster rodents, Jean noted. Creatures which were some sort of a hybrid between a prairie dog and a rat.

Jean pointed Marco's attention to the ground.

Dust smote the floor, but there were tracks that led to the end of the hall. To a small room.

The two young men went on guard and crept towards it. Jean didn't like this game of hide and seek; it wasn't his style. He had all the intention of barging in and kicking ass. But when Marco caught the sleeve to his shirt, he could do nothing but follow the older man's cue. They knelt by the door, listening for sounds inside. Marco knocked against the door and much to their surprise, it swung back with ease. The boys peered in through the gap, taking a moment to get used to the darkness. Light from the hallway filtered in… to reveal a table and chair with a broken leg.

In a corner, there were ropes.

But no sign of anyone.

'Bummer,' said Jean.

'Jean?' called Marco in a low voice.

Jean joined him at the table and found what he was looking at. Rust encrusted shears and a lump of hair.

Or to be more precise, they weren't just hair. But dreadlocks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Their steps sounded hollow in the long corridor.

He was being given the red-carpet treatment.

Not that he minded.

Thames and Costello were provided with reinforcements. Armed reinforcements, he noted, from the tasers and guns strapped in their holsters. Not all belonged to the State Prison. Some bore the badge of the Military Police, the fucking unicorns of the regime. All in all, six guards to wait on him.

A glass exit on the right. A shove forward and an insult thrown in between. Despite his second face, the lime green decor of Utgard State Prison began to burn his vision. Another passage way and the colors took a turn for the worst. This one was harrowingly red. He was being led to narrower aisles and if Levi trusted his sense of heights, they were also ascending levels.

His hands had been restrained, but surprisingly, neither of the two guards ventured to remove his mask. The man behind the mask realised that his passage didn't go altogether unnoticed. He was garnering the attention of patrollers, compounders and all kinds of sundry. A droid fixture that had been shouting 'The 58th Indictment: Right to Appeal or Forfeit' was the only sentient being, which barely noticed him. Levi didn't stop, not until they had traversed into what was clearly quarantine territory. And here, in this fortress of colorful walls and blank expressions, he saw a familiar face. Those blue eyes that seemed to scourge for secrets from everyone. That nose, which set her apart.

The girl with the blonde hair was sipping from a can of beverage. Attired in cargo pants and a green hoodie, she stuck out like a sore thumb among her uniformed companions. How she managed to beat protocol, he didn't know. But Levi knew her. He knew her well and while her presence in Utgard was unsettling, he still remembered the words she had spoken to him last.

_Anarchy awaits you._

He had to admit that the kid had guts. But still a kid.

A rookie playing a grownup's game, not knowing when to cut her losses and quit. A kid. And a brat... just like Eren.

Annie Leonhart did not show the slightest interest as his entourage of Military Police and garrison guards led him onward. Her blue eyes were almost half closed, as she considered him from the distance. She sat on a leather couch, drinking her beverage. She pulled the cup down, glancing at him peculiarly. Her lips moved barely to register a single word.

_Freak._

The man smiled behind his mask.

As his vanguard turned the corner, Levi stopped for the smallest of moments. He turned his inkblot face to her to give the girl a long stare. And giving the girl a slight bow, he followed his guards out.

Good, he decided. At least he didn’t have to keep an eye out for that one.

 

 

 

 

 

He was being detained in a windowless room with just a chair and one funnel light hanging from the ceiling. His surrender caught the authorities by surprise. Protocol stated that captives were to be lodged in a temporary facility to await trial by the courts of justice. That was the official mandate. But his was an extraordinary case. The Vigilante wasn’t wanted for petty crimes. His track record included the bombing of the Senate, intimidation of bigwigs in industry, arsenal and dacoity against the State, the fiasco at the Ritz, the disruption of cargo service between Trost and Ulkridge, and others. So announced the guard who escorted D. E. Lawrence in, reading aloud the chargesheet.

Lawrence leaned against the wall, watching the mask in fascination.

The officer turned to the guards.

'Tell me, men,' he said, drawling, his tone carrying a thick edge. 'Why didn’t any of you, _dickwads,_ try to remove the chap's mask yet?'

Silence answered his question, and the guards looked visibly unsettled by the query.

'Uh,' professed one. 'We weren't sure if we were supposed to, sir.'

Lawrence turned surly. Shaking his head, he strode over to the masked man.

'How do you want to do this, dear man...' he frowned, as he gave the trench coat attire a look of disdain.' I am guessing you _are_ a man...?'

Lawrence heard a chuckle in return.

'If you want to feel me up, you don't have to be shy. Go ahead, check the goods.'

Lawrence turned into stone. Something struck him, shaking the cool demeanor that he had brought with him into the interrogation room.

That voice.

He had heard it before.

And the vulgar mouth.

Indeed. They were all too familiar.

'Fine,' Lawrence said, showing his teeth. ‘Have it your way.’

Before he could order his soldiers to carry out the unmasking, the Vigilante stood up, kicking the chair behind him. His gait was slow and steady as he took two steps back. The guards, who had been on high alert, reached for their guns in reflex, but Lawrence held up his hand. No, he signaled to them. _Settle down. That won't be necessary._

The soldiers of the State watched warily as the Vigilante lifted his hands to his cravat— sullied from its time in the desert and a gorge— and unraveled it. The scarf dropped to the floor with a rustle. The man seemed to be in no hurry and took his own sweet time. When he found the edges of his mask, he began to peel it off.

Under the dim light of the interrogation cell, the captive's pale face bore a sliver of a smile when exposed.

Lawrence stared. He was quiet for a long moment, startled by the true face of the Vigilante. When he spoke again, contempt laced his tone.

'Well, well, well...' he said snidely. 'If it isn't LC Levi. How nice of you to join the land of the living.'

Levi indulged him with a smirk and sat down on the chair. He crossed his legs and shrugged in nonchalance.

'Pleasure was mine, D. E. Forgive my memory, but what were those initials for again. Dick Eater? Douche Enormous? Dick Sucker? Oh wait, that's a D. S. My bad.'

Lawrence ignored the insults and instead, reached for his comm.

'Gale,' he called in a voice that was too proud and vane. 'A message for Niles Driscoll,' he gave Levi a saccharine sick smile. There was a beep and Gale connected to the recipient. 'Niles,' the officer breathed into his comm. 'We've apprehended the Vigilante. Identity established,' his smile grew wider. 'Supreme commander would love to hear about this. Trust me. Call it Code: Dead Man Walking.'

Lawrence cut the message short and turning to Levi, he stooped to meet the man's eye.

'Isn't that interesting? A revered member of the PeaceCorp force defecting to the side of the rebels...' Lawrence gave a hoarse chuckle. 'This doesn't look good for you. Doesn't look good for Erwin either.'

Levi said nothing, conserving his energies.

'What are you trying to accomplish here, _Vigilante_?' Lawrence spoke the name in distaste.

The unmasked man shrugged. 'My hands are tied, turd. There’s not much I can accomplish. But—’ he paused, lips curling. ‘— I do have a little itch in my balls. You want to scratch it for me?’ Levi sagged in his seat, planted his legs wide and gestured to his crotch.

Lawrence scorned the man's crude attempts to provoke him. A vein pulsed in his head, but he kept his anger lidded.

'I don’t understand,’ he remarked with a pinched expression. ‘Why did you surrender? What’s your game here?’

Levi shrugged, his grey eyes going cold, hard and flinty. 'Don’t ask me. Last I heard, I was captured, all thanks to your _superior_ intelligence and covert operations,' he winked. 'Don't worry, Lawrence. I am sure your next paycheck will cover all the pains you endured for capturing me.'

'No, no,' the interrogator cut in, jeering. 'I know you, _Corporal_. I know the way you and Commander _fucking_ Smith work. What's the catch here? There's got to be a catch.'

The man with the undercut shrugged.

'Maybe I got tired of running,' offered Levi with a shake of his head. 'Even villains need a vacation,' trailed Levi and gave the cell around him an appreciative whistle. 'And you've got a nice joint here, Dickhead. Oh, sorry. Dickie, was it?'

Lawrence hissed and watched the prisoner unblinkingly. He folded his arms and sat down at a corner of the desk, his eyes never leaving the captive. The names didn't irk him, but the prisoner’s confidence did.

‘Our leads reported that Eren Jaeger's whereabouts are in Maria. If I’m not mistaken, your stronghold was the subpar. It's where you disappeared, isn't it?' Lawrence frowned, trying to connect the dots. ‘Nice act, by the way. Faking your own death. Keeping your ward close. I didn't know you were into _theatrics_. You're a man of many talents, Rivaille Levi.'

Levi smiled. It was a smile that appeared forced.

'Food for thought, I have many faces. Some you’ve seen. But pray to Mael… you don’t see the others,' Levi warned.

D.E Lawrence didn’t miss the threat behind those words. He hunkered down until his gaze was level with the man's.

'Then, let me remind you too, Corporal. We are Titans. The State isn't fighting small battles either. We are working for glory, for the greater good. But if you or your allies prove to be a hindrance, I'm afraid you'll see our ugly side.'

Levi gauged him and snorted.

'I've already seen the ugly belly of your system, shithead. And it's no pretty sight. Like a rotting carcass with maggots eating it inside-out.'

Lawrence shook his head, an ominous smile unfurling on his lips.

'No, you haven't. Trust me, Corporal, you haven't.'

 

 

 

 

 

They didn’t speak. Neither Jean nor Marco wished to break the sanctity of silence. Words felt like lead, but as they caught the expression on each other's faces, they knew what the other was thinking. The boys came to a silent consensus. To return to Chromium Shark, get reinforcements and launch a search on a wider scale. It was evident that Magnum was in serious trouble, probably wounded. Marco collected the hair in a handkerchief, tucked it clumsily into his pocket and the two made their way out in silence.

The PeaceCorps staggered out of the premises, each more stone-faced than the other. There was disappointment but more than that, a sense of dread and ill foreboding. They took the straight road home, not stopping to talk to the junior football league that the young men had unwittingly groomed in Maria. It wasn't until a brown skinned boy grabbed hold of Marco's jacket, did the two men stop.

'Something wrong?' Marco asked of the boy, patient as always.

The boy gave a nod and pointed their attention to a narrow bylane. Jean and Marco could see a crowd gathered around a graffiti wall. The crowd of spectators stood motionless, unable to move as if magicked into lifelike statues. The boy kept pointing to the circle of people, his dirt stained hand never relinquishing its hold on Marco's sleeve. He pulled and tugged at the fabric, trying to get his message across.

As a last resort, the boy began walking towards the people, pulling Marco with him in tow.

'H-Hey!' said the freckled man in surprise.

Jean and Marco shared a look before following suit.

The boy led them to the heart of the gathering, squeezing through faces of horror and mute figures. Every man, woman and child looked like a ghost, like they'd witnessed some unspeakable horror. A few elderly women wept, shaking their fists at some high heaven and murmuring feverishly among themselves.

Jean discovered what had everyone's attention.

It was a sack on the ground.

A sack stained in red and sitting in a pool of blood.

For a long moment, the two young men stood still, staring at the gunny sack, thinking of the numerous ways they could be wrong.

At long last, Jean turned to look at Marco, anguish written all over his face. He shook his head, stuffed his hands into his pockets and forced his eyes to look away. The ashbrown forced himself to look at the ground and muttered an expletive under his breath.

'No,' Marco heard him say. 'It can't be him. Can't be.'

Marco didn't say anything. He scanned the faces around him, hoping someone would claim ownership. Or else, volunteer to look at it.

No one had the courage.

Jean remained distraught. Marco watched him shiver and wring his hands. 'I'm still wearing his clothes, man' said the ashbrown. 'I'm still wearing his _goddam_ clothes. I taught him how to dance last night. I delivered his kid days ago. It can't be the guy. It just can't be… him,' Jean was beginning to ramble, pacing at the edge of the circle of mute people, his hazel eyes filled with anguish.

Marco knew he had to do it. He was a young man of many fine qualities. His infinite capacity as a listener, patient heart and those acute powers of observation. But perhaps, his greatest strength was his ability to step up to a task. No matter how horrific it was. No matter how much he didn't want to be the one to do it. Swallowing the knot in his throat, Marco swept past the people standing before him, squeezing his way through the crowd and stepped forward to the puddle of blood.

Blood.

Could be anybody's blood.

It could be a sack of anything. Juggernauts. Dragon chickens. Yes, it could even be a sack of bloody potatoes.

What did Jean Paul Sartre say about life? That life began on the other side of despair? That people were nothing but their own choices?

Marco thought he had it all figured out. About existence and the frailty of life. He had long deemed that a war with the State was inconsequential, because conflict was ingrained in their DNA. War couldn't be avoided; lives would always be lost. He thought he was prepared for it. He was wrong.

Walking gingerly around the puddle, he crouched before the sack and caught the rope tying its mouth.

The stench was unbearable, but Marco stopped breathing and worked at the knots steadfast. He unfastened the binding and when the rope finally came undone, he stalled for time. He turned and cast a worried look at his companion again. Jean wasn't looking this way, too shell-shocked to move.

 _It’s all up to me_ , Marco realised.

He opened the mouth of the gunny sack and bracing himself, he hazarded a look inside.

The sight was paralysing.

Sickness overcame him. Jean Paul Sartre deserted him. He didn't remember the man's words, letters, anything.

He barely heard his fellow PeaceCorp call for him. Marco didn't turn, not until Jean yelled his name again.

'Marco! What is it?'

Marco didn't answer.

'Tell me it's a dead chicken,' said Jean in a quiet voice. 'Lie to me, man. Please tell me it's not him.'

Marco released the grip on the sack and stepped back shakily. He could feel the bile rising in his throat and wished he could erase that image out of his mind.

'I am sorry, Jean,’ was all he said, clamping a hand over his mouth.

 

* * *

 


	88. Unmask

 

 

Chapter-88- Unmask

~.~

 

 

The skin around his wrists was red, glistening with ink that would settle into the substrate, marring it. There was a little bleeding too. Marked. He was marked for good now. Lines of black ink, varying in width, carried his identification as an inmate of Utgard, his status and tenure. He scratched at the barcode uneasily, earning a rebuke from the attendant. 

‘Don’t bother. It won’t ever come off. You’re going to carry that all your life.’

All his life.

Levi would be lying if he said it didn’t bother him. This blotch on his skin. Like a stain he couldn’t get rid of.

They’d given him a green jumper and led him to his room. A room with no windows, two bunker beds, a disgusting looking toilet and an occupied armchair. There was a soundbar mounted on the wall and a guy sitting in the armchair, browsing a magazine.

Levi stood outside the laser barricade, taking it in for a moment.

Was this judgment?

 

 

 

 

Seuss Doohan was a young man, barely twenty years old, who loved sitcoms with as much passion as he had for clean laundry and keeping clear of trouble. Unfortunately for Seuss, his life seemed to revolve around doing something stupid at the wrong time, in the wrong place and most definitely, in front of the wrong people. Getting his nose ring was the first mistake he ever made. His blue Mohawk had to be the second.

On his seventeenth birthday, Seuss's peers— those conniving bastards— convinced him that it was a brilliant idea to get his hair dyed blue for shit and giggles. That, it was an even more brilliant idea to snitch someone's TJ and take it for a spin. Of course, boosting someone's ride did not sound like a bad idea back then, when his hair was chestnut brown, wavy and he didn't resemble a toilet-brush-fucking-beacon that could be seen from leagues away. (He was pretty sure he could be seen from space) How was he supposed to know that the reporter lady, the owner of said aircraft, had a tracker placed on the machine? How was he supposed to know that aerial cameras would catch Seuss and his guilty hair on film? How was he effing supposed to know that his friends would desert him and flee at the first sound of the sirens?

Fuck friends.

Fuck the police.

Fuck the justice system.

Ave Maria.

To cut a long story short, Seuss spent his seventeenth year in a juvenile correctional facility in Monroe, which wasn't so bad since everybody got to watch reruns of 'Desperate Husbands' Seasons One to Four, got free refills and a droid husky for a companion.

Good times.

Oh, those had been the good times.

'Desperate Husbands' was just what his heart had ordered. A soap opera, which had all the right elements. The good ol' action-adventure, the heart-warming moments of romance, the gut-wrenching scenes of drama... and finally, the plot twists that kept loyal viewers at the edge of their seats. What would Emanuel do when he found out the truth? When would he and Lupin ever get together? If the creators decided to pull a random ending, Seuss planned to write a strongly worded letter addressed to the producers. Because this was a show that had been with him through thick and thin. And it bugged Seuss that Utgard State Prison had classified 'Desperate Husbands' under provocative programmes and banned it from being screened on premises. What the hell was _provocative_? Dammit, if he couldn't watch his favourite show, what the hell was he doing time in prison for?

Fuck Utgard.

Fuck the justice system.

Ave Maria.

Aye.

With great pain and toil, Seuss somehow managed to keep up with the entertainment news. He gorged on gossip magazines, especially 'Rogue' and 'Titanopolitan' (which, surprisingly, didn't have anything to do with Titan politics). And the boy sporting the Mohawk had been intent on finishing this month's issue of Rogue, when he heard a 'click' and watched the laser barricade of his cell dissolve. The red infrared lines went away and sent a wave of cool air inside.

Outside, Seuss could see a whole brigade of sentinels escorting a man in. The sentinels were guarding the man like a heinous criminal during a prison transfer.

A man dressed in a green jumpsuit just like him.

Seuss watched the man freeze at the very entrance, his sharp gaze sweeping through the room, picking apart every corner and crevice. His face was unreadable, but Seuss could see those shoulders tense up.

The sentinels enjoyed watching the man’s reaction. They laughed. Snickers of mirth at the man's obvious discomfort.

'Senior Lieutenant D. E. Lawrence sends his love and regards. He wishes you a pleasant stay,' remarked one of the guards before giving the captive a small nudge. The shorter man took a ginger step inside, ignoring Seuss. He surveyed the room again before turning back to the guards. The laser barricade fell back into place.

Seuss watched in horror as the guards began to depart.

Before they could disappear out of sight, the young man with the Mohawk haircut walked to the yellow line. The line that screamed at them to keep distance from the barricade. Close enough to shout without being charred by the laser grill.

'Uh, guys, GUYS!' he yelled to the departing men. 'I asked for a bug spray. Not a fucking roommate,' called Seuss.

He heard the men snicker again.

'Consider yourself lucky, Doohan.'

'Lucky? What part of this is _lucky_ , man?'

The sentinels rumbled with laughter.

'Count your blessings, kid. You get to room with The _Vigilante_ ,' mocked a guard with thick eyebrows and oaken muscles. There was a fresh round of laughter. Clearly, mirth directed both at Seuss and the man behind him.

'What?' Seuss mumbled, looking back and forth between the man and the guards. 'Whoa. You're joking, right? Oh, come on. Why–Why would you put a dangerous arsonist with a small fry like me? That's ridiculous!'

The guards merely snickered and went on their way, taking their hideous sense of humor with them.

Seuss stared transfixed at the fading uniforms before turning back to his companion.

He watched the newcomer warily.

'No way, man. You're the guy? The terrorist? The lord of the underworld?'

The brooding man ignored him. The raven-haired prisoner with dark hollows under his eyes, turned his attention from the floor to the mark on his wrists. Seuss saw what he was looking at. A newly branded barcode etched into his pale skin.

Seuss smirked.

'That stuff’s not pretty but you’ll get used to it.’

The 'Vigilante' looked up and gave Seuss a narrow stare.

'Thanks a lot, Doodoo,' he mumbled.

Seuss pulled a face.

'Hey. The name is Doohan,' elucidated the boy.

'Okay, Dodo.'

'It's DOOHAN! D-O-O-H-A-N,' Seuss insisted but to no avail.

 

 

 

 

 

'What's the catch?' the toadface had demanded.

'There is no catch. I am a law-abiding citizen, here to repent,' Levi replied. 'A man is allowed to repent for his crimes, isn't he?'

If there was one good thing about the toadface, he could read sarcasm well. The officer of the Military Police had sat down on the table, looking miffed by the fact that his prisoner didn't look the least bit intimidated. Nor was the man talking yet. Lawrence reached for the totem in his pocket and activated it. He spent a moment scrolling through his messages, a strange smile flitting across his lips.

'You think your PeaceCorp background is going to earn you amnesty?' Lawrence trailed. 'It's just buying you time. If you were an ordinary citizen, you wouldn't be alive at this moment. But now, you've got all these bureaucratic laws protecting you.'

Levi flicked the dust off his coat.

'The PeaceCorps have nothing to do with me.'

'Is that so?' trailed Lawrence, a dangerous glint in his eyes. 'Your reputation precedes you, Levi. I almost forgot about your little problem with germs,' the officer paused, his dull eyes lighting up in interest. 'You hate dirt, don't you? Drives you up the wall, I hear.'

The toadface smirked.

'The orders from the top brass are to retain you and keep you alive for questioning. But they don't mention I have to give you any special treatment, do I?'

Levi knew what he meant now.

He took one step into the crowded mess hall, and a hush fell over the entire place. Occupants at every table turned to look at him. Big thugs. Small fries. Junkies. Everything in between. There were even a few who sported eye patches, looking formidable with bodies built like granite, and others who had mechanical limbs in place of flesh and bones.

Levi turned to the two prison guards, who stood by him. Costello and Thames looked spiffy and alert, clearly feeling outnumbered in the presence of so many outlaws. They hadn't been part of the mock squad that had escorted Levi to his cell the night before. D. E. Lawrence's orders to the men had been simple. Keep an eye on Levi and report his every move. His cell was a let down from the pristine quarters of the interrogation room. Plus, the place seemed to have been made specially to haunt him. He didn't mind the talkative runt that was his new roommate. But roaches, yes, Levi wasn't a big fan of those. Nor of the stinking toilet, the filthy walls and the bug infested bed.

The State was going out of its way to make him feel at home, and Levi was determined to keep his resolve.

As Levi's gaze darted around the stained walls of the dining, meeting scarred faces and lewd gestures, he realised the shitty mess hall wasn't much different from his shitty cell.

The roaches were bigger. And they wore the guise of humans; that was all the difference.

Levi sauntered to the food line and joined it wordlessly. He picked up a plate and walked with the line, which could only be moving at a snail's pace. The hush from his arrival lingered. They knew, Levi realised. They knew who he was. Word had gotten out, ostensibly so.

The big man in front, turned to sneer at him.

'Is it true?' the bald head asked, looking distastefully at Levi.

Levi grimaced. Not at the question but at the grease under the plate. He missed his gloves. Filthy, said the voice in his head. Filthy, Disgusting—

'What's true?' he humored his companion.

'That you're the Vigilante? That you are the masked man who cleaned up Maria?'

Levi let slip a smirk. 'Why do you ask?' he turned to level his gaze with Goliath. ‘I put you in here?'

The big man stared at him and let out a snort.

'You’re funny,’ he said. ‘But let’s see how long you keep your funny on. I assure you. There are some very pissed off folks here…. and you can take a guess on who they're pissed with.'

The friendly native stooped low, meeting Levi's gaze on the same level.

'If I were you, Mr. Vigilante,' he hissed. 'I would keep my eyes peeled open,' advised the gent before taking his plate and getting out of line.

For someone who had just received a death threat, Levi seemed hardly perturbed. He moved along the line, collecting his food in quiet detachment. When the lunch lady, who looked a convincing two-time pickpocket herself, dropped a generous helping of mashed potatoes on his plate. Levi almost smiled.

'What's so funny, noob?' the lady asked.

Levi stared at the cooked tubers, remembering an incident from the past.

'Nothing.'

'That smile ain't look like nuthin'.'

Levi shook his head and retrieved his greasy plate in silence.

When he turned to the sitting arena, the Vigilante discovered a bigger problem. All the seats were taken. And not because there were too many heads to go around. He could spot empty seats scattered here and there, but the hostile crowd had their feet propped up on those, and they looked at him, almost as if they were daring him to come and talk to them.

Prison games.

How juvenile, he decided.

They didn’t understand him. After all, Rivaille Levi had grown up on the street. One of the first rules you learnt growing up on the street... was to choose your battles well.

He spotted Seuss sitting at a table, engrossed in his magazine. The short man walked over to his cellmate and taking the gossip magazine from Doodoo— who yelped when Levi snatched it away— he moved to a quiet corner and laid it across the floor. Making himself a makeshift mat, the Vigilante sat down to eat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

If he were to do a headcount, the enemy wasn't many. One eighty odd folks stuck in this single unit of a prison. But multiply one eighty by the number of fingers itching to strangle his neck, and it was no longer a number to be laughed at.

Levi held his bowl of rice by the rim. He brought it up and took a careful sip, his grey eyes sweeping through the room again. The soup tasted terrible, and he almost missed Magnum's cooking.

His was a simple mind. His intention in surrendering to the State had been simple. To infiltrate the fortress and decipher Grisha Jaeger's whereabouts from inside. Levi had obviously miscalculated. He hadn’t taken into account the angry mob thirsting for his blood. An angry mob that included the scumbags that the Vigilante had personally weeded from the subpars of Maria and Belemoth. Plus, one very pissed off kid who didn't look too happy about Levi sitting on his precious magazine.

The kid's name was Seuss (kid because he didn't look older than eighteen), and the young man had left his seat to come sit down with him. All in the hope of persuading Levi to return his magazine.

Seuss crouched beside the man and gave him a singular look of awe and disbelief.

'Uh, dude, that's kinda my book you're sitting on.'

Levi ignored him, still watching the tense crowd around them. He heard the chairs scrape against the floor and murmurs. Levi sat pensive and took a bite of his mashed potatoes in silence.

Seuss didn't seem to get the hint. The kid was awfully dense.

'Look, man. It's Titanopolitan! It's got spoilers for the next season, and I am not sure about you but I've been looking forward to reading it. So, I'd appreciate it, man, if you don't put your ass on the glossy pages.'

The kid balked when he saw Levi's cold stare.

'You want your book, kid?' the raven-haired man asked.

Seuss nodded.

'Uh, yeah?'

'Get me some Bellen pepper, and I'll return your book.'

Seuss looked across the hall and caught sight of the pepper on the lunch counter.

'That's it?' he asked.

Levi nodded and took a liberal sip of his water.

The boy took off, wondering why this lame ass terrorist of the State couldn't fetch his pepper himself.

No sooner had Seuss left the spot, Levi found a pair of dirty shoes stopping before him.

He looked up and studied the face looming above him. It was a face he had hoped to never meet again. Despite the missing fur coat and shaved head, Belial still carried that swagger and extravagant air about him. The man also managed to gather followers in prison: a new bunch of sycophants and hoodlums as deranged as him.

Belial watched him in interest.

'The Vigilante, is it?' he asked Levi, his voice betraying the murderous anger consuming him. 'Who would have ever thought I'd bump into _you_ in here?'

Levi smiled and feigned innocence.

'Depends on who's asking.'

'You don't recognise me?' Belial noted dryly before lifting his right hand and showing it to Levi. 'Let me jog your memory,' he said, displaying the two crooked fingers bent awkwardly out of shape.

Levi watched them in interest and gave a slow, curt nod.

'Now I remember. You're the pedophile. Prison treating you well?' he asked in mock derision.

Belial did not find the joke funny. His nose flared, fingers (or what was left of them) clenched into a fist but before he could lunge at the man, his sidekicks ushered him aside. They pointed Belial's attention to the guards posted in the hall. Belial wasn’t too pleased, but he nodded in understanding. He looked at Levi.

'This isn't over. I don't know about you, Mr. Vigilante. But I settle all my scores in blood.'

Levi raised his glass of water in cheer and flashed a thin smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

'Hey! Hey VIGILANTE!' voices rang from outside his cell. 'You're dead, man! You hear us? You’re a goner!'

Prison apparently came with its share of entertainment.

'You think you're some bigshot? You're just a dog like the rest of us here! A mad dog that we're going to rut to death. Just wait till we get out. Those guards can't be around you forever. Ha, you don't have your lackeys to protect you here either. None of the syndicate men, init?'

Crass entertainment.

It was as if he had walked into a cockfight, Levi thought to himself.

'You're dead, Vigilante. You hear me? DEAD! We'll bone you like a fish! We'll skin you alive. We'll mess up your face so bad, you'll be forced to wear yer ugly little mask for the rest of yer life.'

Levi stared at the stained walls of his prison, expression grave. All this ruckus wasn't helping him concentrate.

'You too, Doohan! You're dead meat, kid.'

The boy with the Mohawk hair gulped and cast a look of disbelief at the row of cells outside. He got off his bunker, walked over to the yellow 'DO NOT CROSS' line of the barricade and protested.

'Oh. C’mon,' the boy said. 'Dudes, I’m not with him. Seuss Doohan flies solo, people.'

Levi stifled a smile, admiring the kid's efforts.

Soon, the insults were directed back to him. The name calling, the death threats, the insults. Suddenly, Levi heard Belial's voice ring out over the rest. The inmates grew quiet, as they allowed the man to speak.

'Rumors say you were a PeaceCorp, mate. Another slave of the State machinery, eh? You're just a poser like all of 'em. Not such a big man, are ya? I had made hoards of money in the trafficking business... until you came along, you motherfucker.'

There was a pause before Belial's croneys continued.

'That's right. You've got nowhere to run, pal. NO ONE has gotten out of Utgard and lived to tell the tale.'

'You're stuck with us, and we'll tear you apart piece by piece.'

Scratching his undercut, Levi stood up and walked over to the laser lines. He stopped and let his gaze move across the cells on the other end, from where the voices were emerging. He saw faces, shadows, scars, looks of hate and wrath directed towards him. But he did not venture to memorise any of them. He brought a hand up and took a chip off his thumbnail.

Nonetheless, his appearance seemed to please his waiting audience.

'Oooh, seems like we touched a nerve, fellas,' taunted a fellow with a loud guffaw. 'Angry, Mr. Vigilante?'

Another round of jeers and snickering.

Levi let slip a thin smile.

When he spoke, his voice carried till the last of the cells.

'I've got only one thing to say to you, knuckleheads.’

There was a lingering pause before his eyes flashed a cold fury.

'I am not locked up in here with you,' the morose man said. 'You... are locked up with me.'

Silence met those words. The crowd was left open-mouthed, grappling to make sense of what he had just said. With a 'tch', Levi left the hostile crowd to muse over his words. He returned to his bunker and sat down, aware of Seuss sneaking glances at him.

Seuss pretended to be reading his magazine, but Levi noticed that his eyes weren't moving.

‘If you have something to say, spit it out.’

The boy finally put down his book and looked up at him.

'Why did you turn yourself in?' Seuss asked him, sounding hesitant. 'I mean... Aren't you afraid of the people here? Aren't you afraid of being sentenced to death, man?'

Levi ignored the first part of the question and closed his eyes.

'No,' he finally answered.

Seuss frowned and reiterated his question.

'Okay... Are you afraid of nothing, man?'

There was a meaningful pause. Levi opened his grey eyes and looked at the laser barricade.

'No,' he answered.

Seuss looked surprised by his honesty.

'You _are_? Well, what is it? What the hell is a guy like _you_ scared of?'

Levi smiled, rubbing at the barcode on his wrist. What was he afraid of, he asked himself. The answer didn't elude him for long.

'An angry, radioactive husband,' said Levi.

 

 

* * *

 


	89. Ally

Chapter-89- Ally

~.~

 

Sounds of scrubbing filled the space, a space that seemed ten times more miniscule than before. Seuss's new roommate (the notorious Vigilante) despite being a man of five feet something was a larger than life presence in their small cell. Seuss tried to ignore the scrubbing. He tried to play it cool, tried to pretend that he wasn't in the company of a badass, clean freak terrorist. But when an entire hour passed, and the sound of scrubbing only grew in volume and intensity, Seuss dog-eared the page he was on and gave up reading altogether. Because by Titania's _titties_ , if a dude couldn't get some quiet time in prison, Seuss Doohan didn't know where else to go. He cast a peevish glance at the man squatting before the wall, hands working furiously with the scrubber. Just like Seuss, Levi had his green jumpsuit on. But that's where all the similarities ended. With a strip of cloth covering his mouth and jaw, the Vigilante was using a toothbrush to scrub the grime out from the tiles.

Was this the same man who challenged the lords of the underworld? Was this janitor dude really the ‘Vigilante’ – infamous for bombing the Senate? The one who had broken Belial’s fingers?

Wow, Seuss thought to himself. He was beginning to find his new roommate awe-inspiring, a force to reckon with and a role model to emulate. He admired the man's resilience and that stoic aura... until he noticed what the Vigilante was actually scrubbing the walls with. A toothbrush. A toothbrush that looked awfully familiar.

'Hey man!’ he started. ‘Is that _my_ tooth brush? No, no, no... Tell me it's not MY toothbrush!'

'It's your toothbrush,' the Vigilante replied tartly.

The young man got to his feet, mouth frothing and his left eye twitching.

'The fuck did you take mine for?' he demanded. 'It was the only one I had! Do you have any idea how hard it is to come by a good quality toothbrush?'

Levi turned to him, grey eyes narrowed into slits.

'You've got a problem, Doodoo?'

Seuss gulped, his confidence capsizing under that glare and reconsidered his stance. Just like Levi, Seuss Doohan had grown up on the streets. And like Levi, he learnt his lessons early. That there were some fights not worth getting into. Seuss took a doozy step backwards, let his shoulders sag and sat down in defeat.

'No, it's…uh… cool. I'll just sell another kidney to get a new toothbrush from the commissary. Carry on, mate. By all means, carry on.'

 

 

 

 

 

The telescreen images flickered as the soundbar finished another series of long winded broadcasts. Lawrence sat back in his chair, his eyes never leaving that one screen on the top left. His aide from the Military Police, Niles Driscoll, stood behind the table, hands pressed palm-first on the surface. There were other top officers from the MP, each bearing down on him with their questions and doubts. Djel Sannes and Ralph didn’t bring with them any word from Supreme Darius Zachlay, which put Lawrence in a bad mood. Where was his recognition? His fanfare and hoopla for having nabbed the Vigilante?

'What do you think, Lawrence? Why is he here?' Niles asked him.

They were watching the grainy picture of a target, the man in green was doing push-ups in his cell. He had started with a hundred squats, fifty crunches, twenty bench presses while his cellmate looked on in bafflement. The Vigilante alias Rivaille Levi was living up to his title of pokerface. It had been two days already, two days of tic by tic surveillance and they had deciphered nothing. Not a single answer to what he was doing here. Lawrence rubbed his chin, looking troubled.

'If my hunch is right... he’s here for Jaeger senior. Can’t be a coincidence.'

Niles turned to him in disbelief. He did not comprehend those words, not at first. He opened his mouth, trying to piece together an argument before deciding to close it. 'Why?' he asked, looking aghast. 'Why _now_ of all times?'

Lawrence shrugged.

'I’m a forward-looking man, Driscoll. I’m more concerned with _how_ he is going to do it rather than _why_.'

Niles pulled back with a groan. In exigencies, he wasn't as confident as Lawrence. Niles' was a cautious mind and everything about Rivaille Levi screamed red alert to his senses. He had warned Lawrence that it was a bad idea to not lock up the man in solitary. Despite confining the fugitive between four walls and quarantining him in a block with his most ill-favored enemies, Levi did not seem the least bit intimidated. Niles hated to admit it, but their plan was backfiring already.

'You think he is going to try breaking out? With the Grey Baron?' Niles asked, scratching his stubble. 'I don't understand it. What good will it do him if the old man is rescued?'

His confidante steepled his fingers and watched the screen keenly.

'I don't know, Niles. Why would the Vigilante want the Grey Baron, you ask? There is always the personal angle to it…'

'Personal?' Niles prompted.

Lawrence took out his totem and pulled up the prisoner's file. His dark eyes skimmed the history and finally came to a stop on the projected data. He frowned at the name listed against Levi's marital status.

'He could be here for someone else,' the toad faced officer mumbled, not liking the name at all. 'It's a little odd, I admit. I know this guy. I've known him for years. Emotional attachments don't figure high on his list.'

Niles looked up at the screen again. The man with the undercut was still doing his push-ups, counting loud enough for them to hear. 'I don't see why we are waiting for answers, Lawrence. Shove him into Max, the usual methods. Use the scalpel or waterboard him. Make him squeal out the answers. So, what if we have to use a bit of force? Pixis would cover it up. He's got our backs, remember?'

Lawrence clicked his tongue and scoffed. He closed the totem and motioned towards the telescreen. 'If this guy were an ordinary street rat, he'd be dead by now. You are forgetting that our man was a PeaceCorp, Niles. A well-known officer. He has some amnesty to a fair trial. We can't lay a hand on him until the investigation team arrives here. Diplomatic immunity and all that shit,' he gave a snarl, growing irritable. 'Know what's the worst part?'

The officers watched the captive count the last of his push-ups.

'He knows it,' Lawrence finished, his face twisting in contempt. 'He knows we can't touch him. And that pisses me off more than anything.'

Niles pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

'So, you're going to let this guy sit on our heads and have the last laugh?'

Lawrence smiled.

'Don't worry, Niles. We play good until the investigation team arrives. After that, there will be plenty of opportunities.’

‘For what?’

 ‘An _accident_.'

 

Squad soldier walked past them, while they were kept busy.

Work hours comprised one third of a day. Handcuffed and tethered, they were shuttled from their cellblock to a dust filled yard, where the soil glinted a little and sank under their feet. Plutonic residue, Levi discerned as he stepped out from the shuttle. Prisoners walked ahead of him and threw him wary looks over their shoulder, clearly not trusting Levi. He was the center of attention, the new gig to talk about, he knew.

The prisoners were made to gather around a plinth, where a sharp-tongued garrison sergeant handed out their work charts.

Manual labor was a way of reining excessive energies and tempers.

Manual labor was a way of reminding captives that they were small, insignificant and at the complete mercy of a higher order.

'Each man needs to mine six barrels of granite, ya hear?' the officer barked at them. 'If you think you can get away with slacking, you are WRONG. It's six barrels today or _twelve_ tomorrow. Make yer choice.' He sneered, looking down his large nose at them, enjoying his rank and the position it lent him. The prisoners moved in a line, grumbling under their breath, and the sergeant began tossing them rusty old shovels. Sometimes hitting their face on purpose. 'You fall dead from exhaustion, it's not our problem, bubbas.' Levi moved along the line and when he arrived at the plinth, he cast a look of disdain at the rusty equipment. The sergeant glanced at him. Then, leisurely, he walked over, straightening his cap and sizing Levi up.

'Oooh, lookie what do we have 'ere. I heard about you!'

His voice was slightly accented, words smashed together.

Levi met his gaze evenly.

'What's the matter, Most Wanted? Our work culture not up to your _standards_ , Mr. Vigilante?' the sergeant guffawed, throwing him a shovel.

Levi said nothing and caught it singlehandedly.

The supervisor spit something to the side. He turned to look at his clipboard.

'Seems like you get special privileges, bubba. It says 'ere that you need to work twice as hard as everyone. Ain't that nice?' the man barked, sneering at him again. 'I've got orders here to extract twelve barrels from you. Heard that? TWELVE!'

Murmurs went about. 'Twelve?!' someone uttered in sympathy. 'How's the man gonna dig twelve? They wanna kill him or what?' But Levi remained silent. Behind him, he felt an elbow graze him. He heard Seuss let out a low whistle. 'Dude, how many people did you piss off exactly?' the boy remarked in a small voice.

Levi smiled.

'Everyone loves me,' was all he said, before grabbing his equipment and walking away.

 

 

 

 

 

The clank of metal against rocks filled the air, a sound that could be grating on the sensitive soul. But as he let his gaze move across the circumference of the work yard, scanning from one able-bodied man to the next, Levi came to the understanding that there were no sensitive souls here. Just hardened men well suited for grunt work. He swiped at the beads of sweat along his forehead and resumed shoveling granite from the ores and into the wheelbarrow beside him. To give him company, Utgard had arranged for a guardbot, a levitating metal ball that kept a careful watch over him, its lens eye tracking his every move. It followed him everywhere and could keep a 360° strong surveillance. One step astray and it was ready to zap him with electricity.

The AI wasn't the only one watching him. As Levi kicked the shovel deep into the ore pit, he was aware of eyes piercing into his back, watching him. Twice, he caught Belial standing near the laser tapped fence, smoking a cigarette and whispering to his men. The man had somehow weaseled out of doing his share of the grunt work. Two runts were being made to toil extra hard to make up for the deficit. Belial caught Levi looking his way and smirked at him. The lord of pedophilia and kiddie porn wanted him out, Levi knew. But Belial was just a defanged eel and the least of Levi’s troubles. His crew were helpless too; the men probably wary of the guardbot themselves. This constant surveillance was also the reason Levi's cellmate was keeping away. Not to forget, Doohan was still miffed about the loss of his toothbrush. The young man was taking a break under a tin shed, sitting among the dirt and reading that magazine of his. When the eighth load of granite was done, Levi removed his gloves by the skin of his teeth and walked over to a boulder, sitting down. The levitating guardbot turned agitated.

'INMATE!' it announced in a stern voice. 'Rule 602. You are not authorized to leave your work zone. I repeat, you are NOT authorized to leave your work zone,' screeched the guardbot. 'Get back to your assigned spot.'

Levi ignored the order and slid down the boulder to sit on the sand. The thing was beginning to annoy him now.

'Rule 602!' gurgled the guardbot. 'Infractions will be heavily dealt with.'

'Go, fuck yourself,' muttered Levi under his breath and took out a screw from his jumpsuit's pocket. The piece of metal had come loose from the wheelbarrow. He dragged it along the ground, making shapes and lines.

The guardbot had disappeared, probably to get reinforcement from a human officer.

Time passed. The guardbot hadn't returned and Levi was still marking the ground... when Seuss, letting curiosity get the better of him, walked over to the man. The young detainee flopped down beside Levi and gave the Vigilante's doodles a curious glance.

They had seemed like doodles at first.

But as Levi dragged the sharp end of the screw into the soft mud, familiar shapes began to appear. Zigzags, dashes, all enclosed within a larger ellipse. When the man began to outline the exits, routes, passageways and buildings, Seuss realised that the Vigilante was drawing the ground map of the prison. In minutes, his cellmate had the State Prison's blueprint down to remarkable scale.

Seuss was baffled by the details.

In the short span of two days, the guy had managed to memorize almost everything about the fortress. Down to where exactly their cell was.

The younger man cleared his throat and in a very low voice, he spoke up.

'Not gonna work, you know. Whatever your plan is. It’s gonna ruin you.'

The man paused and glanced at him, sideways.

'And what is my plan, Doodoo?'

Seuss chuckled.

'What everyone here has tried to do. Or at least, thought about it,' Seuss sidled closer and whispered. 'Break out, man. It's not gonna work, y'know. You'd get zapped before you can even say 'Holy Tits of Titania'.'

Levi smiled.

'That's where you are wrong, Dodo. I am not trying to get out.'

Before Seuss could ask the man what he meant, the guardbot returned, fuming and muttering under its breath. The young man yelped and scuttled for cover, afraid to be discovered anywhere near Levi.

 

 

 

 

 

Seuss was reading again. He’d left the tin shed and sat perched on the boulder that Levi had vacated. While the older man worked, mining and hauling granite rocks, Seuss, finished with his quota for the day, was providing a running commentary on celeb gossip. Glossing over stories of embezzlement and political diatribes, Seuss found himself infatuated with an emerging scandal on the sets of a sitcom. A very popular sitcom. The boy with the blue Mohawk let out a loud whoop and pumped his fist in air. '—I knew it. I mean it's so fucking obvious. I knew this was gonna happen. Hell, everyone knew this was gonna happen.'

Levi, who was unloading his ninth barrel of granite, cast a dark look at the boy. He paused to flex his fingers and ran a hand over his undercut, feeling the dampness of his sweat. His muscles were sore, hands blistered from the shovel. and his lungs felt like sandbags. Vile, that's how he felt. Vile and dirty, a husk of the man he used to be.

'What's… obvious?' asked Levi, his voice sounding strained.

Seuss turned the magazine around and pointed at the text. 'Lupin and Emanuel, dude. Or at least, the actors who play them.'

Levi grunted in nonchalance.

'Who are they?'

The question was met with an incredulous stare. Seuss looked to be reeling in shock.

'Uh, did you just ask me who Lupin and Emanuel are? No way, man. You're joking, right?'

Levi returned a fish eyed stare.

Seuss gestured wildly, as if he were playing charades with an unwilling participant.

'Come on! Desperate Husbands?' suggested Seuss. 'AKA the best fucking show on the whole planet? AKA six time whammy winner? Anything ring a bell?'

'No. Never heard of it,' Levi said with a shrug.

There was a silence and Levi looked at his cellmate, only to find the boy gaping.

'What rock have you been living under, man? Know what, don't even answer that!' the young man with the Mohawk huffed and flipped a page. 'Anyway, according to this, the paparazzi caught the two coming outta the same apartment. They even printed a picture,' he squinted at the dark photograph. 'I can't make out anything. But hey, you know what all this means, right?' said Seuss with a wag of his eyebrows.

Levi took his shovel and walked back to the pit, chipping away at the opening.

'Maybe they are pals or something,' he mumbled.

Seuss snorted at that.

'Pals? Dude, my wingman is a pal. My dad is a pal. But these _two_? Nuh uh.'

The young man cleared his throat and began reading the article in a scholarly vein.

'Sources claim that the actors are often seen together holding hands behind the scenes, and a member of the supporting cast commented that the two are IN FACT inseparable even when the cameras aren't rolling. Inside sources claim that the actors recently bought a luxury condo in Monroe, which they apparently share with a dog. Our reporter on location camped outside the condo reports he saw the two go in together, and Emanuel didn't leave until the next morning. More suspiciously, the lights were turned on the whole night.'

Levi dug his shovel into the rocks with a heave. His jumpsuit was now completely drenched in sweat, his face cold and clammy. The last thing he needed to dwell on… was a celebrity affair.

'Maybe, they're just friends,' he supplied, hoping Seuss would shut up. 'Friends who play carom or somethin'.'

Seuss scoffed.

'Right, I am sure they're just _friends_ who play carom all night. But I don't think it's the _carom_ you think,' Seuss let out a mischievous smile and turned to look at his magazine. 'It's cool, though. I’m honestly happy for them. They've got chemistry for real.'

Levi looked at the blue haired idiot.

'Kid, you're in prison. Why do you even care?'

Seuss smiled. 'It's because I’m in prison that I care.'

Levi shook his head in defeat and gave a furtive glance at the guardbot circling around them.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching. Levi turned and found that he had company. The two young men who had been working themselves to death for Belial appeared before him. The lean one, with dried blood at the corner of his lips gave Levi a small smile and held up his hands. To signal that they came in truce.

'Is it true?' he asked, looking at Levi in ardor. 'We heard rumours that you're the Vigilante. Is it true?' he asked again.

While that question was usually asked with a touch of derision, there was a honesty to this boy and his group. Levi paused and looked at the visitors, watchful and wary.

The young man with brown skin kept smiling through his chapped and broken lips. He eyed Belial nervously before turning back to Levi. 'My name is Montoya. My mother. She said you'd come. And she was right.'

Levi frowned.

'Do I know you?' he asked the group.

The visitors had grown from two to a dozen, the company of prisoners becoming courageous enough to speak to him. They did not wear the same green colors as he did. But a bland grey jumpsuit, marking them differently. Levi turned from one eager face to another.

'You are?' Levi asked them.

'We are from Cellblock 2.'

'Cellblock 2?' repeated Levi. He tried to map the place in his mind. 'What about it?'

His curt questions seemed to surprise them. Seuss, who had gone uncannily quiet, answered in lieu. 'That's where all the subpars go, man. At least the ones who never got a proper defense. It doesn't matter if you're from Maria, Belemoth... that's where they all go. Left to rot and die in Cellblock 2.'

Levi looked from the group to Belial and his cronies sitting in the shade.

He shook his head, putting two and two together. It figured that the State kept its preferential bias even in prison.

'So, they work you like mules… while drug lords and pedophiles get a free ride?'

The boy in front nodded reluctantly. Darting a worried glance at the guardbot, he leaned across and spoke in hushed tones.

His eyes carried a bedraggled look as they sought out Levi. 'Vigilante. You've come to free us, haven't you?' he asked, sounding desperate. 'Cell block 2 is a horror. Half of us haven't eaten in days. We were waiting for you,' he said, breaking into a timid smile. 'Mother was right. You really are a hero. You came to get us out, didn't you? We don't know how you're going to do this, but we are with you every step of the way, _Captain_ ,' he said, beaming with unbridled pride. ‘Can we call you Captain? We’re yours to command,’ He turned to the others, spurring them on. 'Right, men?'

A murmur of agreement went around.

'AYE!'

‘Count on us!’

‘Just get us out of this dump! Please!’

Levi glanced at the guardbot watching the scene in muted silence. He dropped the shovel on the ground, glanced at the crowd and shook his head.

'Hate to burst your bubble,’ he said. ‘I don't know what you've heard or seen. But I’m not here to rescue anybody,' he told them, raising his wrist to show them the barcode. 'I’m just a loser like all you folks. No hero, believe me. Don’t waste your breath,' he said and left the circle.

 

 

 

 

'Dude, that was cold,' said the boy with the Mohawk hair when they returned to their cell. 'Even for you.'

Levi said nothing as he sat down on his bed, scrubbing at the spaces between his fingers. His throat was parched; every nerve and sinew in his body exhausted, and Levi eyed the jug on the table with a hint of yearning. Thirsty, he was dead thirsty, but that jug wasn't his. It was the young man's, and the first rule in prison was to never share. With a daily quota on food and water, it was every man for himself. Seuss followed his line of sight and realised what Levi was looking at. The boy with the Mohawk hair walked to the table, took the jug and poured himself a glass. He strode over to Levi's bunk and held out the glass.

'Here you go,' he said. 'You look like you need it,' Seuss said, grinning a little. 'Seriously, though. No one believed you'd be able to do _twelve_ in a day. You really are something.'

Levi stared at Seuss in surprise and grudgingly, accepted the offering as well as the compliment.

'Thanks,' he mumbled.

'Don't mention it, man. And don't get the wrong idea. I still hate you, especially after you stole my toothbrush and all.'

Levi gave a sliver of a smile, watching his cellmate over the rim of his glass. The boy returned to his own bunker and took to reading again. It was as if they weren't even in prison but at camp. He didn't mind it. Levi liked the young man's optimism. Doohan's enthusiasm for the life outside was addictive. Seuss reminded him of someone, someone who was no doubt very pissed with him right now.

Seuss slipped to a corner and pulled himself into a ball. He watched as Levi took out a small pencil stub from his pocket. Doohan's eyes widened and for one short moment, his fear of the Vigilante returned. He wondered if Levi was planning to stab him with it. But Levi laid those paranoid fears to rest when he started scribbling on the floor.

'Hey,' called Seuss after a long, decisive pause. 'Were you... uh... saying the truth?'

'About what?' grunted Levi.

'That you're married? Cos' I can't picture you that way. You weren't pulling my leg, were you?'

Levi smiled but stayed mum.

Seuss dusted his knees and glanced swiftly at the other man.

'If you don't mind me asking, what kind of person is he?'

Levi looked up with a frown, and Seuss began to wonder if he shouldn't have asked that. The dark-haired man took a deep breath and tossed away the pencil stub.

'What kind of person, huh?' Levi murmured and looked around as if the words to describe that someone could be hiding in the crevices and corners of his hellhole. The barricade buzzed with a silent energy, the roaches scuttled between shadows. Despite the disparaging circumstances, he could see the training grounds from his memory. A grey smoggy day. Bleachers. And Eren smiling at the end of the finishing line, arms held high in triumph and a smile that could rival a thousand suns. How does one describe a certain Eren Jaeger? Words could never be enough. Call him short-tempered and the boy pursues the end of worlds to find you. Call him a kid, and he proves to you how much he has grown up. Unpredictable in every form and shape of the word. And the worst vice of all, if you open the door and let the brat into your heart, he made sure that you could never close the door again.

Levi drew his hand back and looked at the black outline he'd drawn with his whittled down pencil.

Infinity with a line cutting through it vertically.

He looked up at Seuss, his expression pensive and dark.

What kind of a person?

'One of a kind,' Levi answered, letting out a small smile.

 

 

 

* * *

 


	90. Black

 

 

Chapter-90- Black

~.~

The ponytailed woman did not quit jabbering, not even when she was asked to step through the sensor gate and told to raise her arms. Her aide, a man with dirty blonde hair took the coat from her as the security guard began to sweep her. The guard patted her pockets, her thighs and her boots, while Hanji Zoe peered down at him in nothing short of irritation.

'If this is Utgard's so called hospitality, I am disappointed,' she remarked, loud enough for everyone in the lobby to hear. ‘Where are the biscuits and tea? Where is the marching band? Is this how you treat _dignitaries_? Oh, the travesty!' she straightened her goggles and looked crossly at the young guard running the detector across her chest. 'And you!' she grinned wide. 'Are you trying to check me for tumours, sapling? I don't have a bomb hidden in my chest, you know.'

The guard turned red and removed his hands promptly.

Amused, Hanji lowered her arms and spruced up her shirt's collar like a professional. Behind her, Moblit walked through the turnstiles since it was his turn for inspection. Hanji watched the guards approach him and issued a warning to her deputy.

'Moblit, be careful. We've got a bunch of perverts here. Before you know it, you might be at the receiving end of a prostrate exam. Beware, Moby. On your guard, my Rasputin!'

'Squad leader,' said Moblit with an exasperated sigh. 'I’m sure they're just doing their job,' said her aide.

Hanji sniffed the air, her glance roving across the lobby.

'Job, my ass,' she said. 'Everyone knows what goes down in Utgard,' she was now speaking loud enough to gather a crowd. Soldiers stationed beyond the gates were forced to look up and wonder what the commotion was all about. Hanji pursed her lips and smiled at Utgard's natives. It was a pleasing smile but her words held vitriol. 'Give a little too much power to the police and we have tyrants subjugating innocents. Isn't that right, men?' she asked, eyeing the security guards in ill favour.

'All we ask is for your cooperation, ma'am,' said one, trying to mollify her. 'We'd appreciate it if you could just–'

Hanji tilted her head, considering him with a frown.

'I'll tell you what I'd appreciate. A cup of tea. Troops, in case you haven't noticed… I’m a superior officer. And I've just had to make a long, mind you– a very very long flight,' she turned to the second guard, operating the turnstile detectors,' –without a toilet break and the first thing you men decide to do is frisk me. Nobody appreciates being harassed, gentlemen. Especially with a full bladder.'

'Apologies, Zoe,' a new voice added itself to the melee. Hanji turned to see Lawrence walking up to them, taking leisured steps. He smiled at the two of them, looking the very picture of chivalry. 'But protocol is protocol.'

D.E. Lawrence beckoned them forward. 'How nice of you to visit, PeaceCorps. To what does Utgard owe this pleasure? Has the PeaceCorp regiment finally decided to be useful to the State?'

Hanji sighed and turned to Moblit.

'Moblit, what was today's weather report?'

Her aide turned a little baffled at the question.

'Um, 38 degrees, slight chances of rain. Why do you ask, squad leader?'

'Just checking, Moblit,' she reflected before breaking into a sly smile. 'Just checking… Tell me something. Nowhere was it mentioned that it'd be raining frogs, did it? Can't trust the weathermen these days.'

The jibe didn't go unnoticed. Lawrence gritted his teeth, a strained vein appearing in his neck. Hanji ignored him and whistled a pleasant tune instead. Her watchful gaze moved across the lobby and she scrunched up her nose at the excessive security arrangements. Before the tension could escalate between the two, Moblit intervened. He sidled over to the Military Policeman and spoke to him in hushed tones.

'I am really sorry, sir. The squad leader's a little cranky today. Please forgive her. All this _Vigilante_ business,' he sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small totem. He spoke in a quieter voice. 'The whole fiasco is turning out to be a blot on our unit, and she's taken it personally. Squad Leader cares for the PeaceCorps, you know. It’s a blemish on our honour.'

Lawrence gave an uncertain nod, his attention never wavering from the loud woman.

'I couldn’t care less. My concern is your visit seems… sudden,' he told Moblit with a grunt.

Moblit handed him the totem. 'Yes. But we’re the investigation team. Dot Pixis wanted it to be a low-key affair. Especially with the media hounds around, we had to make a quiet entry. As for the agenda, we are here to question the suspect. Orders from Stonehess.'

Lawrence took the totem, handling the device with care. He flicked it on and read the hologram order. The officer read every word twice and checked the seal. Sure enough, the mark was of the Capital. He looked from Moblit to Hanji and then to a third person decked up in riot control uniform. Lawrence indicated to the third man.

'Who's he?'

Moblit frowned.

'Uh, he's the other reason why the squad leader is in a bad mood. He's a BlackGuard.'

'BlackGuard? One of the elite commandoes? From Stonehess?'

'That's him. We suspect he is here to keep an eye on us. Supreme Commander Zachlay doesn't trust the PeaceCorps, apparently. That guy's just waiting to snitch us out,' said Moblit, pausing to give the third a harried look.

Lawrence smiled, as he processed this info.

'I see.'

 

 

 

 

In a fly in restaurant on the outskirts of Utgard, a media-van of Trost News stood parked outside, among a dozen other television crews. There was laughter and rhubarb in the air, journalists exchanging notes and camdroids humming static in the back of dinghy vans. It was as if every reporter in Titan had descended to the military capital, like vultures on the lookout for a good scoop. Mikasa couldn't really complain. The herd of journalists gave them cover and helped the three merge with the crowd. Mikasa, Armin and their rescuer sat at a table, keeping a watch on the high walls of the fortress. The sally port was closed, and there was no hope of getting through any of the checkpoints.

Not very concerned about the situation, Armin took a hesitant bite out of his Mugile wrap: a popular delicacy made of grilled meat and oats (or so the waitress told him). After his stint with two headed eels and weird soups, the boy from Earth hadn't trusted the wrap at first sight. But one bite proved him wrong. Mugile wrap turned out to be as good as a McDonalds burger. If not better.

Beside him, Mikasa Ackerman poked her sandwich with a fork, clearly not having the appetite for it.

Ymir smoked in their company, a scowl plastered to her face.

'Let's go over this caddywhompus plan of yours again,' the tall freckled woman said. 'I kinda lost you when you said we're breaking into the State Prison.'

Mikasa lifted her sandwich, sighed and took a small bite.

'No, that's exactly,’ she took a munch, ‘–what I said.'

The dusky woman pulled a face. Ymir gave the reporter an incredulous look.

'You realise, that most people try to keep _out_ of jail,' she said with a scorn. 'Tell me the truth, Poster Girl. When you were a wee child, growing up at your father's knee, and your aunties and uncles asked you, 'Oooh, what do you wanna be when you grow up, dandelion?' I bet it was to be a ballerina, an actress or something like that. You didn't tell them it was to be a felon, right?'

Mikasa turned to her companion dully.

'When I was a child, Ymir, I was working the streets. Eating out of dumpsters.'

There was a silence.

Ymir stared at her, dumbfounded. She cocked up an eyebrow in disbelief.

'You can't be serious.'

The woman in the bomber jacket shook her head, looking every bit serious.

Ymir peered at Mikasa, looking at her in a new light.

'Fine. So, you aren't the spoilt, stuck up princess I thought you were. What does that have to do–'

'Ymir,' cut Mikasa irritably. 'It has everything to do with what we are doing here. My father is inside that block of concrete. My _foster_ father. And if it weren't for him, I'd still be on the streets. Get it? I've lost too much time looking for Eren. So, quit running that mouth of yours and make up your mind already. Are you _in_ or are you _out_?'

The taller woman jutted out her lip and tapped her cigarette into the ashtray.

'You are an insane little cunt,' said Ymir, with a smirk. 'But a cunt, alright. How do you even plan to get in? They're not gonna lay the red carpet out for you, honey.'

Mikasa didn't have an answer for that.

Armin, who'd been watching this volley of words with interest, cleared his throat.

'You know, ladies, where there is a will, there is a way.'

The two women turned to glare at him, clearly not in the mood for proverbs. Especially from a whiny Earthborn who had been constipated through the whole journey to Utgard. The blond boy sighed and reiterated his statement. 'Or like my grandpa used to say. Even prairie dogs gotta eat.'

Before anyone could ask what a prairie dog was, Armin pointed outside the window towards the prison gates. A food delivery truck had arrived, and it was waiting for clearance at the sally port.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The trouble with prison wasn't the suffocating walls or the trample of boots down endless corridors. The real pain was the passage of time and not having a clue to what day it was. No way of knowing the hours. No way of knowing how much time he had left. The State Prison's rules prohibited the possession of a watch, a comm.. or any electronic device (unless they were a prosthetic for the disabled). How Doohan had smuggled in his gossip magazine through the airtight surveillance, Levi couldn't help but wonder.

Levi lay in his bunk, with insomnia to keep him company. Insomnia and Doohan's nasal snoring that resembled a juggernaut being strangled to death. He stared at the ceiling in silence, wondering...just wondering if he'd miscalculated. No plan was fail proof, he had once taught that ward of his. Had he forgotten his own lesson? Had he underestimated the risks of this labyrinthine prison?

Levi wasn't allowed the opportunity to dwell on those questions. He heard the unmistaken sound of people. Voices raised; hue and cry broke out as the gates to prison quarters were unlocked. Every occupant of Jail Block 4 woke up and moved to the laser barricade, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening. The hooting was a rude awakening for Doohan who sat up and stared groggy-eyed at the corridor. When soldiers were spotted to be approaching, every inmate began to entertain the hope that the officers were here to free them. That an order for their release had finally come through.

'About time,' cried one desperado. 'Told you suckers, didn't I? They can't keep me 'ere for long.'

Others sounded more anxious.

'You're here for Reynolds, aren't you? It's me. I am R-Reynolds. You've c-come to get me out of here, haven't you?'

But the visitors paid no heed to pleas. When their footsteps converged to a stop before Levi's cell, he sat up and turned from one face to another, recognising their belligerent expressions.

Two sentinels, a soldier decked in armoured uniform, Lawrence, Moblit and... Hanji.

When the laser barricade came down, Hanji was the first to enter his cell. She paused to look around, her observant eyes taking in all but Levi. It'd been months since he last saw her. The goggles were pulled into her hair in a strange fashion that was so Hanjil-esque, but she was far from her exuberant self. This Hanji was sober and calm.

This Hanji was a stranger to him.

'Nice place you've got yourself. I like what you've done with the décor, Levi,' she said before turning to him with a smile. 'Am I allowed to call you that? Or would you prefer _Vigilante_?' she asked.

Her tone was cheerful, but Levi sensed the anger behind those words.

'Hey Four Eyes,' he greeted back solemnly. 'Good to see you.'

Hanji didn't return his greeting and folded her arms over her uniform.

'Good to see me? Wish I could say the same, old pal,’ she let her gaze roam again and sighed. ‘I thought I knew you. I thought we were friends. Buddies!' she said, stressing on the last word in disgust. 'Of all the people to be caught up in this freak show, I thought you'd be the last.'

Levi smirked.

'Only a freak would understand another freak.'

Hanji turned to him, watching him with her impervious eyes.

'I don't know. I want to understand you, Levi. I want to help you. But unfortunately, you screwed up. You screwed up real bad, partner,' she went over to Doohan and pulling her goggles down, inspected him as if he were a test subject. She seemed taken by his hair. 'You know why I am here, don't you?' she asked.

Seuss gulped under her magnified stare.

'Uh… No, ma'am, I don't.'

Hanji frowned. 'I wasn't talking to you,' she told the Mohawk boy and suppressed a chuckle at his shudder. The loud-mouthed woman sat down on Doohan's bunk and clasped her hands in front of her. 'Today, Levi,' she began in a low tone. 'I’m representing the PeaceCorps,' she motioned for Moblit to enter. The man with the dirty blonde hair stepped into the cell, looking apologetic as he did. He took out a digital clipboard and a redux pen at her behest. 'And we are here, as part of the investigation team.'

Hanji's manners turned professional, and she tapped her goggles gloomily.

'You have the right to remain silent. You can also request the State for a defence attorney. Do you want any?’

‘No,’ Levi answered.

‘Alright, as you wish. I’m going to be asking you a set of questions and I expect honest answers. Are we on the same page, Levi?'

Levi said nothing for a long while. 'Do I really have a choice?' he asked, grey gaze flicking to the sentinels and Lawrence.

Hanji smiled.

'No,' she admitted in all honesty.

Levi nodded in understanding.

'Alright. Go ahead,' he said.

While Hanji cross-examined the prisoner, Lawrence walked up to the man in the armoured suit. He stood next to the blackguard's elbow, looking on in amusement. The officer of the MP listened to each word intently, weighing them in his head. Levi did not evade questions, nor did Hanji Zoe show the slightest inclination to avoid the damning details.

'How long is this investigation going to be?' D. E. Lawrence asked the man beside him.

There was a measured silence before the soldier answered.

'Not long, sir. Routine work. Formalities to cover our back.'

Lawrence nodded.

'Any messages from Supreme Commander? I understand you’re here for a reason.'

The guard nodded and inclined his head.

'Godspeed. The Supreme sends his regards and believes in your judgment.'

'Ah,' Lawrence mumbled, pleased to hear it. 'My judgement. He has always trusted me more than others. And do you know _why_ he sent you?'

The soldier shook his head.

Lawrence gave a curt nod and reached into his coat. With a soft click, he removed the service revolver from his holster and slipped it into the black guard's glove. He gave the man's sheathed fingers a soft knowing nudge.

'Keep it safe, you'll _need_ it.'

The BlackGuard looked down at the revolver.

'I am armed with a taser probe already.'

'Tasers won't kill anyone. I need the man dead. I'll arrange for the signal; your job is to make it look like an accident.'

'An accident?'

Lawrence nodded, keeping his gaze steady on the occupants of the cell.

'If you didn't know, our captive has a violent record. Media will eat it up like the pigs they are. No one will suspect. Finish the task... and we'll talk about your... uh, _promotion_.'

Lawrence could hear the Black Guard smiling.

'As you command, _sir.'_

 

 

 

 

The interrogation had ceased; both Hanji and Moblit exchanged a glance. 'How bad does it look?' she asked of her subordinate, her gaze never straying from Levi's. Moblit gave the clipboard an uncertain look.

'How bad?' demanded Hanji, her stern gaze fixed on Levi. She wasn't mincing words, then again, she never did.

Levi broke into a small smile.

'Don't take out your anger on him, Hanji. It's not his fault that I am here.'

The woman took off her goggles and pressed a hand over her eyes. She shook her head, not sure if she ought to be distressed or amazed by how calm Levi was. She fiddled with the glasses in her hand and looked up at Levi.

'The media is already calling you the 'Enemy of the State'. The prosecution will go for death. Our hands are tied, Levi. Don't expect any support from our end.'

'I know,' cut the man, running a hand over his undercut. 'You've done what you could. I know.'

The woman looked at him, sorrow lacing her features.

'I’m sorry. But you defected, and it is treason of the highest order. You are on your own, pal.'

Levi watched her, keeping his reserve.

'I've always been on my own,' he finally said.

'Yes, because you are an ass,' Hanji said, standing up. 'A stuck up, old ass who lets his friends down,' she smoothed down her uniform coat and gave the prison cell one last troubled look. Lawrence raised an eyebrow, surprised at this amiable parting. The ponytailed woman turned to Lawrence next and regarded him impatiently.

'We need to have a look at the possessions he had on his person. The night he got arrested. Can you take us there?'

'Right. I'll lead you to inventory.'

The barricade came down again, cutting Levi off from the rest of the world. He watched them go and took in a deep breath before turning to the barcode on his wrist. He rubbed at it absentmindedly, aware of Seuss moving to the laser lines.

You're on your own, Hanji had said.

What did that mean?

Seuss was the first to break the silence.

'Uh, Vigilante dude? I know this is not a good time to talk but… why is _that_ one still here?'

Levi turned to the laser barricade, and Seuss was right. There was the armoured man standing at the entrance. The sentinels were gone, Lawrence had disappeared, so had Hanji and Moblit following at his heels. But the black guard had remained behind.

Why?

Levi watched the soldier pull a card out from one pocket. An access card, Levi surmised. How did the visitor even get hold of it? Seuss darted back to his bunk in a daze, eyes wide with worry and fixed on the dark shadow looming at the entrance. They watched the intruder slink the card into the security slot. There was an audible click before the light changed to green. 'Access granted' chimed an electronic voice. Before Levi and Seuss could comprehend what the man was up to, the interloper pulled down the lever. The laser barricade dissipated with a snap. Without announcing his intentions, the black guard entered the prison cell, his movements perfectly balanced despite the heavy bastille padding that he wore. A hand went behind his vest and pulled out the service Glock. There was no trepidation but singular purpose in his every movement.

Levi rose to his feet, caught his cellmate's shoulder and pulled Seuss behind him.

'What's going on?' Seuss demanded, voice breaking into a whimper. 'What’s going on, man?' the boy squeaked, his mouth hanging open.

'Dodo, take cover,' insisted Levi. 'And for fuck's sake, keep quiet.'

'What?' Seuss looked over Levi's shoulder and caught sight of the gun. 'Oh man. He's not gonna fire at us, is he?'

The black guard seemed to be waiting for a sign. And then, they heard it. The sirens went off in the silence of the night, wailing, screeching and bathing the corridors in red. Every man and machine was awake and on high alert. The prisoners began yelling, demanding to know what was going on. It was mayhem, a blistering mayhem of the tallest order. Perhaps it had been this mayhem that their executioner was waiting for. The invader raised his arm, levelling the revolver against their heads.

Both Levi and Seuss held up their hands.

Seuss was inconsolable.

'What the hell! You can't shoot us. We aren't hostile. I know my rights, sir. I KNOW MY RIGHTS AND YOU CAN'T DO THIS!'

'Doodoo, save your breath,' hissed Levi, his grey eyes screening the room. His mind paced, searching for a way out. Here they were. Two against one. Except, the gun gave their executioner the undue advantage. Not to mention, the brat behind Levi was not helping his cause. Seuss was ready to shit his pants. He stammered through his prayers, terror spewing through him.

'Fuck you, man. Fuck you for pulling me into this shit,' the younger complained, eyes blown wide in horror. He looked at the guard and tried pleading. 'Look, dude. I don't even know this guy. I am too young to die; I haven't met the woman of my dreams, haven't had babies yet. I haven't even seen season 9 of Desperate Husbands. You can't off me like this. Not cool!'

The guard raised a gloved fist and began to count.

'One,' he announced, lifting a finger.

Levi froze in his spot, his grip on Seuss tightening.

A second finger went up.

'Two.'

'Any last requests?' the interloper asked, his voice sounding clear over the sirens.

Doohan ducked under Levi's arm out of reflex.

'Yes, just don't shoot me,' the boy mumbled from below.

'Any last requests?' the black guard asked again, directing the question specifically at Levi.

The Vigilante stared at the hidden face and broke into a smile.

'Yes. I’ve got one,' he replied.

The black guard waited patiently.

'Well... What is it?'

Levi loosened the grip on his cellmate, let his shoulders ease. He kept smiling.

'Tell my husband that I am... sorry?' he offered lightly.

There was a silence, interrupted at times by heartfelt prayers to Titania's titties from a whimpering Seuss and the sound of the sirens. There was a pause before the black guard finally dropped his weapon wielding arm. He lifted the other hand to his helmet and pulled the visor glass up to reveal his face-- a mustached and stubble face that didn't disguise its fury. It was still a beautiful face, and Levi realised suddenly how much he'd missed it.

'Yeah, you better be,' said Eren, glowering at him.

 

* * *

 


	91. Moustache

 

 

Chapter-91- Moustache

~.~

 

 

_4 days ago_

 

The seedy motel could have passed for a cabaret club with jazz playing on its wall mounted stereos. The invisible lady crooned on.

_Oh, please have some pity,_

_I'm all alone in this big city_

Four days ago, Hanji and Moblit had walked into a hotel in the red-light district of Utgard, hoping to find answers. Answers behind the cryptic message that someone left them (Someone, who— by official records— ought to have died in a horrific jet crash). Turning down solicitations from scantily clad women at the reception, the two senior soldiers took the elevator, jingled their way up, made three wrong turns and somehow, at long last, found the room they were looking for. As they stood outside the door, not knowing what to expect, they heard a voice. Curses, and then the rattle of metal against wood. It was the voice of someone young and oddly familiar.

At Hanji's nod, Moblit decided to do the honors. He knocked, letting his knuckles rap against the door. The effect was startling. The voice simmered down; the room seemed to have been scared into its grave by Moblit's knock. There was someone in the room, alright… someone so frightfully quiet that Moblit was half-afraid to open the door himself.

Moblit decided to persevere, and bracing himself, he knocked a second time.

'Um, hello?' he called weakly. 'Anyone there?'

No sound. No movement. When Hanji gave a nod, Moblit caught hold of the lever and turned it. He’d expected resistance, but much to his surprise, the door wasn't even locked. It swung back, granting the soldiers a wide berth for entry. Hanji and Moblit walked into the room, their steps laced with trepidation. They expected to find a cornered beast, some kind of a wild animal clawing to get out. Instead, they found a young man. A young man distraught, and ill-tempered, for he was handcuffed to the bed and clad in just a bathrobe. Hanji and Moblit exchanged a look. The duo had encountered unusual sights before. From Erwin's Madeline to the collection of perfume bottles that Mike kept at his home. But _this_ – this scene of Eren Jaeger handcuffed to his bed beat all the others.

The senior PeaceCorp members stared at him confounded. All while the peacekeeper gawked at them in equal measure. Eren's jaw went slack and lips parted open, registering shock at their appearance.

'Hanji?' he mumbled, looking confused between the two. 'Moblit, what—?'

For his part, Eren looked like he'd just survived a major case of cardiac arrest. His eyes roved between the two of them, before showing some signs of recovery. He let out a groan and shook his head. 'Christ,' he said. 'I thought I was a goner for sure. I thought it was the police,' he said and sat back on the bed. He took a moment to gather his bearings.

Hanji and Moblit exchanged a knowing look— a look of mischief. Eren saw them holding their sides, bodies quaking; they turned away, ready to burst in laughter. He realized belatedly that the two senior officers were finding his predicament humorous.

Eren shot them a dirty look.

'Oh, c’mon. Does this–' he rattled his handcuffs pointedly. '–look funny to you? How the hell does this look funny to you? I'm having the worst fucking night of my life.'

To his chagrin, Hanji kept cackling with laughter while Moblit tried to assume an aura of dignity (though the corners of his lips were still curled up.)

'We are sorry, Eren,' mollified the man, giving Eren a sympathetic nod. 'Yes, you are absolutely right. This is not funny. Not funny AT ALL,' he emphasized, giving Hanji a square look and hoped his jovial superior would get the hint. He turned to Eren and sighed, looking slightly embarrassed. 'It's just that...'

'Just what?' the young man demanded.

'It's just that, uh,' Moblit seemed to be searching for the right words and was avoiding looking at him straight. The man gave up, let out a resigned sigh and decided to state the obvious. He lifted a hand and pointed to Eren's bathrobe. 'It's just that we can see your penis from here.'

There was a silence. The sort of silence that, unfortunately, couldn't dig a hole and swallow him whole.

'Shit,' Eren cursed, bowing his head in embarrassment and tried to fix his bathrobe with his free hand.

It was the last straw. Hanji lost it and hid her face behind Moblit's shoulder, laughter rippling through her like thunder. Moblit tried a vain attempt at looking serious, but even he couldn't help but smile.

'I hate you all,' mumbled Eren, standing up and giving a tug at his cuffs. 'All of you. Every one of you. Especially–' he looked at the screen behind them, at the nonstop news coverage. He recognised those images again and turned painfully quiet. The light in his eyes dimmed, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. 'Especially him,' he finished in a barely audible whisper.

With their little moment of Schadenfreude passed, the seniors turned and saw what he was looking at. A masked man striding into a crowded plaza, in full view of surveillance cameras. No sooner had the channel run the footage, the cover story switched to the live broadcast of a press conference. Hanji picked up the control and unmuted it. Dot Pixis was addressing a mob of reporters. When Pixis spoke, his voice— proud and sarcastic— filled the tepid silence of the hotel room.

‘Justice will be served upon our collective conscience. No crime will go unpunished. At the end of the day, Titan shall prevail, and it will always prevail.'

The commander's words hung like a death knell.

Keeping a watchful eye on the images, Hanji walked across to the table and picked up the key. She moved to Eren and caught hold of his wrist, freeing him from the restraints.

Eren didn't thank her. The peacekeeper kept his eyes glued on the image of Pixis, his jaw clenched and breathing shallow. He watched the media shoot a volley of questions at the man, each question receiving a more dubious answer than the one before. A long time ago, in the oval office of the army headquarters, this man had thrown Eren a bone. A piece of advice.

'There is nothing personal when you serve the State. Surely, you understand by now.'

Eren bit back a snarl.

First, his dad. Then, his mom. And now...

Eren's anger dissipated, only to be replaced by a sense of anguish. The reporter switched to the scenes from the plaza again, recounting how the 'Enemy of the State' had been captured. Not surrendered, Eren observed in silence. But _captured_. The State had no qualms about rewriting news stories, fabricating lies was nothing new to them.

The brunet forced himself to look away from the screen. He didn't need to know more. He had it all memorized down to the last detail. Eren glanced down at the handcuffs that lay discarded on the rug. He was free and Levi, the one imprisoned. How was he going to fix this?

Hanji noticed the despair on his face. The woman turned solemn and gave Eren's elbow a gentle tap.

'Now, now, quit sulking,' she said, taking off her goggles in style. 'He has a plan,' she told him, her eyes gleaming at him in that old Hanjiesque madness.

'Does he now?' Eren asked her bitterly. 'A plan, huh? Nice. You know what I'd appreciate, Hanji? Telling me the plan before and not _after_.'

Hanji smiled.

'I know his methods are not exactly orthodox, but Levi knows what he is doing. Besides...'

'Besides?'

'He said if there’s one person who could find him, it was you.'

Eren swallowed the knot in his throat and wringed his hands.

'He’s a prick.'

Looking buoyant, Hanji winked back at him.

'Not going to argue on that one. He is indeed a prick,' she admitted. 'I've been telling him for years, Eren.'

 

 

 

 

 

The bad thing about PeaceCorps?

They were never taken seriously. Not on their homegrounds. Or outside of it.

But the good thing about them?

They were dead serious when they had to be.

A briefcase was laid out, its contents spilling over the mattress. Hanji and Moblit were huddled on the bed, pouring over a totem. It was an intimidating sight for Hanji's goggles glinted against the ceiling light, and Eren, from private experience, knew it wasn't a good sign. When Hanji Joe meant business, she meant it.

It had been two days, and Eren had been confined to the room, while the two senior PeaceCorp members enjoyed full liberties of the private room. They went out at odd hours, returned at even odder hours, bringing little to no news from outside. At times they'd talk of an ambush and at other times, they'd discuss handlebars. All with a straight face. Eren didn't get it, but then again, he quit trying to figure them out years ago. If there was one thing he knew... all this sitting around and doing nothing was getting to him. It was getting right under his skin.

Eren contemplated jumping out the window, like the last time he'd been placed on house arrest. He could do it again, he swore to himself. He dropped the idea when he craned his neck out the hotel's window and realised that this time, he had no gear for assistance. Utgard's fortress prison lay daunting ahead while he sat holed up in a love motel. The whole city seemed to taunt him. Eren could hear it whistling at him, those hackneyed sounds of mirth. He realised later that it wasn't the city making fun of him, but in fact the hookers standing on the street, trying to woo customers.

On the third night, Eren decided he couldn't take it anymore. He padded over to Hanji's side and looked at her earnestly.

'Let me help, Hanji,' he said. 'There must be _something_ that I can do.'

At first, she ignored him. She had a strange microscope out, and she had been changing slides faster than Armin studying for AP Biology.

'Hanji,' he called again.

The senior finally sat up in attention and took notice of him.

It was hard not to. Eren could be a forceful presence when he tried.

'You really want to help?' she asked, considering him.

'Yes!' insisted Eren.

Hanji reached for her wallet and pressed it into his hands.

'Hop to the nearest store and get us something to eat, Jaeger. We are all starving here.'

Eren looked down at the wallet in his hand and turned back to her, frowning. 'When I said I wanted to help, this isn't what I meant–'

Hanji gave him an indulgent smile. 'We are almost done here. Plus, no one can work on an empty stomach. So, please? Feed us!'

The peacekeeper sighed. He'd been relegated as a gofer, which was still better than being cooped up in the room. With a reluctant nod, he picked up Moblit's coat and made for the door. When Eren returned an hour later, carefully balancing three ready-to-eat meals from a Titan diner and cold beverages in the fold of one arm, he found Hanji grinning at him. Apparently, she had made some sort of a breakthrough on the project she was working on. Wrenching a slide out of the scope, she shuffled over to Eren. She held out it out for him to see, like a child showing off a butterfly to its parent.

Eren peered over her hand, not sure what to make of it.

The slide had a wobbly dark membrane on its surface. Like an iris.

'What's this?' Eren asked hesitantly as he placed their food on the table.

'This, my dear Earthborn, is your new _eye_.'

She said this with such great enthusiasm, Eren was almost afraid to ask again.

'My new _what_?'

Hanji beamed. She pulled him to the bed and made him sit. She knelt down on one foot and fished out her latex gloves, pulling them on with finesse. She flexed her fingers in a manner that was frenzied and excitable, which made Eren's balls shrivel up. He looked at her and at the ‘eye’ cautiously.

Hanji began to explain. 'State Prison has high security. Now,' she said, pointing to herself and her deputy. 'Moblit and I have a cover. We are still in active duty. But _you_ aren’t. How do we smuggle you in? That was the problem statement.”

'Was?' Eren repeated her wording, looking a little hopeful.

Hanji nodded and held up the slide.

Eren watched her gloved fingers warily.

'So, that thing's supposed to help?' he asked.

'At security check, they do a retina scan to verify your identity. This,' she said, reaching for membrane on the  glass slide and holding it up, '– is to make sure you get in with us, without any hitches. It's an artificial eye, created with the refractive identity of an old acquaintance of mine.'

Eren stared at the cornea like membrane.

'But, there's a catch…right?'

Hanji nodded, impressed that he caught on early.

'The catch is your visibility. As long as you have this on, you will be rendered blind in one eye.'

Eren stared at her.

Was she suggesting breaking into a heavily guarded fortress with just one good eye?

'One eye, huh?' he said.

Hanji nodded, her expression serious.

'Do you still want to go ahead?'

His mind was made up ages ago. Giving her a determined smile, Eren nodded.

'Yeah. I'll risk it.'

Hanji smiled, not surprised by his answer. She caught his face gently and stooping closer to the young man, she leaned close and blew lightly over his lashes. 'I will be putting the membrane over the right eye. That's the one they usually check.'

'What if they go for the left, Hanji?' Eren countered. 'I have shitty luck when it comes to high stress situations. I am fate's lovechild, if you haven't noticed,' the peacekeeper quipped with a roll of his eyes.

Hanji nodded.

'If that happens, Moblit can flash his manboobs and save all of us.'

Moblit, who'd been tinkering with a hologram, didn't hear them laugh.

Hanji paused, staring at Eren in wonder. She angled his face, letting out a low whistle in admiration.

'Heh,' she said, breaking into a wondrous little smile of her own. 'So, it's true.'

'What's true?' Eren asked, frowning again.

'Your eyes.'

'What about my eyes? They're beautiful or something?' Eren supplied, grinning mischievously. Hanji scrunched up her nose and tilted her head, looking a little sour. 'Not sure if I'd call them beautiful, Earthborn. But they…’ she offered him a bemused smile. ‘— they pull you, y'know. They pull you right in.'

Eren grimaced.

'Gee, thanks.'

Hanji winked back at him.

'Don't thank me. You should thank the person who noticed them first.'

It took a moment for the words to register. Eren said nothing and endured the urge to turn away.

 

 

 

 

 

He studied himself in the mirror for a long time. His right eye was a shade darker, hardly noticeable to the casual observer. He looked the same, and that wasn't what he'd been hoping for. If he'd been hoping for a miraculous transformation, he was being stupid. Changing one eye did not change one's appearance. Eren scratched his chin and let out a sigh, as he returned to the room.

Hanji and Moblit looked at him expectantly, the first more high-spirits than the second.

'So?' Hanji asked, sounding sinfully excited. 'How does it feel?'

'Weird,' he admitted, his gaze roving through the room. 'It feels weird. Like a bug is stuck in my eye, and I can't get rid of it.' He caught sight of the dark padded uniform laid out on the bed and pointed towards it. 'Is that... for me?'

Hanji nodded. She reached for the helmet and holding it out for him, she tapped its dark glass.

'This one's a prototype from my lab. Optics that can hack images from any satellite receivers nearby. Try wearing it.'

Eren placed the helmet over his head and strapped it on.

Great, he thought to himself. His visibility had gone from fifty percent to twenty in a matter of seconds. Hanji seemed to read his mind, and she leaned over to press a veiled switch under his strap. The glass of his visor lit up, streaming pictures and grid maps from the hotel's satellite dish. For a moment, he was blinded by the bombarding images, the continuous stream of information too heavy to digest. He walked around the hotel room in a daze, bumping into furniture and almost knocking himself over the bed. Until Moblit caught his shoulder, holding him steady while Hanji helped Eren learn how to control the instream. She taught him how to move screens, how to use the menu and close them all down. It was like playing Counterstrike in real time, with just one good eye. Wicked, Eren thought as he pulled out the helmet and gave it an appreciative look. But his nervousness lingered as he gave the rest of the riot control uniform a long glance.

Eren sighed.

'This isn't going to work. They're going to recognize me anyway.'

'Oh, no,' said Hanji, turning to her aide. 'Not when we've got a secret weapon. We save the best for the last, don't we, Moblit?'

Her deputy nodded nervously. He drew out a white box out of his coat and striding over to Eren, he flicked it open.

The brunet peered down at the contents.

And there it was.

Hanji Zoe's idea of the ultimate disguise.

He'd expected a wonder gadget of some sort. A laser gun. Something to zap your enemies with. Instead, Eren found himself looking into a treasure chest. A treasure chest of moustaches.

There was a bushy one, a walrus moustache, a circle beard, droopy whiskers and a French style moustache.

Hanji waved her hand benevolently.

'Take your pick, Matadorrrr!' she said.

Eren looked up and gave her a look of disbelief.

'You can't be serious.'

And that's when he remembered. How dead serious PeaceCorps could be.

 

 

 

 

Standing in a cell, amidst the heat of blaring sirens and the stench of lock up, Eren decided to put that lesson to good practice.

The young man in the riot control uniform reached for his visor and lifted the glass panel up to reveal his face. Levi stared into those narrowed eyes. There was the younger— boyishly handsome, wisps of disheveled brown hair protruding from the helmet and a fire-filled volcanic gaze directed solely at Levi. Troublemaker extraordinaire, the brat who grew up too soon, his one and only husband... raised the revolver again and kept it pointed at him.

Amused, Levi ventured to lower his arms. Little did he know that the young man wasn't joking.

'I _didn't_ say you could do that. Hands in the air where I can see them,' the peacekeeper snarled at him, looking murderous now. 'This Glock is loaded, and I assure you, sir, it's got a bullet with your name on it.'

_Ouch._

Levi paled a little.

'Eren–' he began.

The young man scowled and took off his helmet, tossing it to the bunker.

'Didn't say you could use my name either. You're not off the chopper yet, sweetheart.'

 _Yet_ , Levi noted to himself. And _sweetheart_. Maybe there was still hope for redemption.

Levi gave the peacekeeper a gratuitous smile.

'Point taken...' the older man trailed, bringing up his arms again and peered at Eren's Bastille suit, his eyes grazing over it in detail. The padding had fooled him. The helmet fooled him too. And then, there was the facial hair, which was hard not to notice. A moustache hung over Eren's lips, adding a few years and a mean streak to the young man.

'Nice moustache,' Levi remarked. 'Makes you look sexy. Manly. I mean...' he paused and gave Eren a long, appreciative once over. 'You were always a fox in bed but this,' Levi swept a glance again over the tight suit, the broad shoulders and hummed loudly in approval. 'You look spunky, sunshine.'

Eren didn't find the jibe the least bit funny.

'Sunshine? You've got some nerve to call me that after what you did.'

Or maybe, there was no hope for redemption at all. The younger looked positively livid, ready to outright murder him.

Amidst this heated exchange, a blue haired prisoner, who had hitherto held his tongue, decided to speak up. Seuss cleared his throat as he sidled back into his bunk, safe out of firing range. Something gave Seuss Doohan the impression that the black guard wasn't interested in him. And while this blatant disregard for his finer feelings would have riled him up ordinarily and hurt his sentiment, Seuss felt relieved to be given the miss this time. But that didn't mean he was going to stay quiet. That didn’t mean his curiosity wasn’t rearing its ugly blue head. 'Uh, ‘scuse me—’ he said, interrupting their spiff. ‘—but what exactly is going on here?' he asked, pointing between his cellmate and the black guard. 'Is there some sorta history between you two?'

Eren's attention never wavered from Levi.

'History,' he repeated in a hiss. 'Oh, I'll give you history,' he glared at the grey eyed man before him. 'You sucked my cock and left me handcuffed to a bed.'

A chilly silence followed those words.  

Levi didn't contest the accusation, nor did he correct this strange paraphrasing of the last night they spent together. But Seuss did. Blue mohawk turned to Levi in blatant shock.

'Whoa, man. Is that true? You left him chained to a bed?' echoed the inmate, looking bewildered. 'Wait, no, no. Scratch that. You suck _cock_?'

Levi gave his cellmate a look askance and shrugged as if it were no big deal. 

'Like a pro,' added Levi, looking smug about it.

Seuss groaned and pressed a hand over his eyes.

'Aw man, I didn't need that image. Erase, Abort, ERASE!'

While Seuss mumbled curses under his breath, Levi turned to look back at Eren. His grey eyes held the peacekeeper in a steady gaze, gauging the boy's mood.

'I don't see why you're complaining. I thought you liked kinks,' said Levi, his grey eyes holding a glimmer of mischief.

Seuss turned to Eren in surprise.

'You like kinks?' he asked the peacekeeper next.

The brunet looked taken aback, and the revolver in his grip lowered a little.

'I do NOT,' Eren sputtered, turning a little flustered.

Levi turned to Seuss and shook his head.

'Don't take his word. Sunshine's being a little shy,' said Levi, smirking at Eren even as he spoke. 'The truth is... He is into all kinds of kink, loves it, lives for it. I think he's even a little too addicted to all the rough play. Being tied up and kidnapped is right up his alley. Ain't that right, honey?'

'None of that is true,' bleated Eren indignantly. 'Stop making up stuff before strangers.'

Levi wasn't done talking. He was on a roll.

'And tentacles. He's got a big thing for tentacles. He–'

Perhaps he said too much. Then again, Levi wasn't known for tact. Eren went straight bat-shit. He out a growl and rammed into him, pressing an arm into the older man's neck. Levi's back hit the wall and he grunted at the force of impact. He found Eren breathing down hard on him. The volcanic gaze was still there, but this time, laced with something more. Anguish.

Eren swallowed hard, struggling for words.

'Fuck you. You think this is a joke?'

Levi let his shoulders relax and considered the boy calmly. They could hear the sirens of Utgard wailing; they could hear the screech of wheels and gears, of gates screeching into the night, barricades falling and the yells of restive prisoners, demanding to know what was going on. Time was running out, but Eren seemed to pay no heed to it. He had a score to settle and apparently, a truckload of things to say.

'Do you have any idea what it was like?' Eren asked, his voice dropping to a whisper, lower lip trembling under that fake French moustache. 'Waking up alone and finding you gone. Do you have _any_ idea?'

Levi watched him wordlessly.

'You said you'll be there for me. That you trust me,' whispered Eren. 'And you bail out on me the first chance you get... you’re a piece of work.'

Levi met Eren's gaze firmly.

'I didn't bail on you, Eren. I took the only chance we had.'

Eren scoffed at the conjecture and pressed the service gun flat against Levi’s chest.

'A chance?' he said. 'There could have been someone else standing here right now, pointing this gun at you. You'd be dead. Get it? Dead!'

Levi smiled.

'I know, sharkbait. I know.'

'Sharkbait?' Seuss's voice emerged from a desolate corner of the prison. 'Did you just call him sharkbait? Why the heck is he sharkbait? From what angle, does he look like a nice little bait to you? If anything, he oughta be a shark. A mean, jaw snapping–'

The brown haired young man pulled back from Levi and turned to Seuss with a growl.

'Who the fuck is talking to you?' Eren snapped at the kid.

'Aha!' Seuss said pointedly. 'That's exactly what I meant. He's no sharkbait–'

When Eren turned on him, Seuss crumbled into a ball again. Especially when he saw the revolver's muzzle being waved in his general direction.

'Sorry, sorry. I've got a big mouth. Chronic illness. And uh, dude. Do you mind not pointing the gun at me?'

Levi strode forward and placed himself between them.

Eren turned to Levi, looking more furious than before. 'I don't believe you. We are separated for like four days and you get yourself a new–' he paused, voice wavering.

Levi caught the revolver held hand and lowered the Glock to his side.

'New what?' Levi prompted, keeping his hand over Eren's fingers and giving them a squeeze. His eyes twinkled in mirth as he considered Eren in the awkward silence.

Eren turned away.

'Nothing.'

'New what?' persisted the older man, forcing Eren to face him.

Levi's hand came around to rest on Eren's nape and tugged him near. The man with the undercut tilted his head, leaning close enough to nuzzle into Eren's messy brown hair and close enough to whisper into his one ear. Whisper words which were almost sweet nothings; words which made Eren go weak in his knees.

'You're the only brat in my life. Didn't you know?' he heard Levi breathe against his ear.

Eren made a small noise. He had hoped to emit a manly grunt, instead it came out like a mewl.

Levi bristled with laughter and traced his earlobe, pressing soft kisses along the curve of Eren's ear and down his jawline.

Eren squeezed his eyes shut and cleared his throat. 'Hate to say this. I mean... I'd totally want to make out, but we are kinda... in jail.'

Levi smiled, lifting his head and kissing the bridge of his nose. 'No, I am not in jail,' the older man said. 'I am home.'

'Where did you get that idea from?'

'Easy. Home is where you are,' explained Levi.

Eren rolled his eyes. He attempted to stay angry; he attempted to not give in. But deep down, the peacekeeper knew that he was already losing. Then again, when it came to this guardian of his, he had lost the battle a long time ago. Levi had him wrapped around his fingers, knowing all the right switches and every weak spot of his. Nothing was ever fair with that guardian of his.

'Yeah?' Eren said, swallowing the lump in his throat. He caught sight of the barcode on Levi’s wrists and the callouses from mining granite. 'You have a funny way of showing it,' he told the older man before lifting Levi’s hands and giving them a pained expression. ‘They’ve marked you. They know it’s you now. Why did you have to do this—'

The sirens served a brutal reminder of where exactly they were.

'Dammit, Levi,' said Eren. 'Look at where you are. Look at where we are.'

Levi nodded.

'Depends on perspective.'

'We are in PRISON. No perspective is going to change that.'

Levi brought a hand to Eren's hair and ruffled it. He pulled the younger into a one-armed hug and nuzzled the brown hair one last time. Levi took a deep breath, relishing in the scent of all that was Eren. After having spent the last four days in the proximity of roaches and sweaty men, the young man was like a much-needed draft of fresh air from outside.

Levi pulled back and clasping Eren's face, he bumped their foreheads together. He met Eren's gaze.

'We are inside the fortress,' said Levi, sounding like the old Corporal he had once known. The mirth and pleasantness was gone, replaced by a cool calculatedness. 'Both you and me. Wasn't that the plan?'

Eren looked startled at first. Odd enough, despite the trials and tribulations in getting here, he hadn't realised that. Shaking his head, Eren nodded belligerently.

The sirens were finally broken by the sound of broadcasts. A female voice began speaking over the woofers, issuing orders to the units. Utgard had begun to mobilise security.

Doohan cleared his throat and was the first to break the awkward silence. 'Uh, guys, hate to break your touching reunion and all. I mean, bravo and stuff but... I think that's our cue to leave.'

'Our?' Eren echoed as they pulled apart.

Seuss looked mortally wounded.

'Whoa, man,' the blue haired youngster protested, 'You aren’t thinking about leaving me behind, are you? Take me with you!'

Eren scorned him.

'I’m not rescuing you.'

Seuss turned to Levi, giving the older man a pleading look.

'He is coming with us,' said Levi on his turn.

Eren shot Levi a look of disbelief.

'What? Oh, come on,' he sputtered. 'Why even stop with this kid? Hell, we can bail out the entire prison, Captain.'

He caught the expression on Levi's face. And there it was. The dead seriousness of the Corporal. Or Vigilante, he couldn't really tell which one. But Eren knew what Levi was thinking and he didn't like it one bit.

'No way. You've got to be kidding me.'

 

 

 

 

 

The beeps of the siren reverberated through the fortress, swathing aisles in red light. It wasn't long before the wail of the sirens reached her.

Annie felt the shudder under her feet, felt the walls tremble around her.

She turned to the man who sat at the table, head buried in the fold of his arms. Her gaze moved to her watch, but no commands were issued to her. Annie made a swift second decision. She walked over to her charge, tapped his shoulder and when he didn't wake up, she snatched the glass from his grasp and smacked it down on the edge of the table, in one smooth and terrible motion.

There was a clamor, the glass cracking in her hands.

The man woke up with a start.

'Wha– What happened?'

'We need to move,' she breathed, her gaze fixed on the blinking lights of the corridor. 'Now!'

'Move? Where?' demanded Grisha weakly, before he felt the woman's hand wrap around his elbow and found himself yanked to his feet.

 

 

 

* * *


	92. Riot

 

 

Chapter-92- Riot

~.~

 

The sirens were replaced by foghorns; Utgard's high authorities had apparently escalated the emergency to level two.

When they emerged from the cell, it was to an uproar. Every prisoner, every inmate who had been watching the proceedings put two and two together. The fact that the Vigilante was leaving scot-free, the fact that he was neither handcuffed nor chaperoned by sentinels and the fact that no one liked him, made every man (or to quote Seuss, every goddam motherfucker) bang on their walls... as if they were trying to bring the whole place crashing down. Eren stood paralysed amidst all the commotion, startled and intimidated by the din and thunder of nearly two hundred voices. Everywhere he looked, there were jaundiced faces glaring at him. Voices rose together, rising in a bric-a-brac crescendo, bellowing curses, and then a string of abuse. The prisoners mocked him and taunted Levi, with racial slurs, banging the walls and making lewd gestures. Eren had seen the ugly side of high school before but this... this was something else. For the first time, the young man was glad for the laser barricades that separated them from Utgard's true residents. Levi caught the brunet's shoulder and gave him a nudge in the direction of the horizontal doors. There was no time to dally; they had to be quick, Levi said.

'You need to go to Sector D. Steer clear of the guards,' pressed Levi, oddly calm despite being in the eye of the storm. He stopped when he noticed the pale expression on the younger's face. 'Eren, are you listening?'

The peacekeeper was finding it increasingly difficult to focus. Especially with people calling him a 'pussy', 'retard' and 'cockslut'. Especially with that foghorn blowing over their heads and turning his brain into jelly. The flashing red lights didn't help him either. Eren blinked furiously, feeling nauseated all of a sudden. His hold on his helmet went slack, and he felt the long hallway swim before his eyes. Breathing heavy, Eren blinked again, faltering in his step and pressed the bridge of his nose, trying to get rid of the blurred visions. He took a deep breath in. Come on, focus.

In all this pandemonium, the peacekeeper felt hands clasp around his face and the pull of those familiar grey eyes. Levi held him close and held him steady. The older man's mouth moved. He was speaking again, but Eren couldn't hear him this time.

'Can't hear... you,' Eren muttered, furious with himself. 'I can't hear you, Levi.' He felt his face grow clammy and hot between Levi's fingers while his breathing grew labored.

Eren felt a tug on his ears. Levi was urging him to pay attention.

'Eren,' he heard Levi call. 'Snap out of it.'

This time, he heard the man.

'You with me?' Levi asked over the sound of the foghorn. His voice was loud and stern, but Eren detected traces of the old gentleness. It was the same voice that used to reprimand him when he failed to pay attention in class. The same husky voice that would speak to him over the comm. whenever he felt lonely. He found his footing and managed a weak nod.

'Y–Yeah.'

Levi watched the boy, unconvinced before resuming his directions. 'That’s the way,' he said, pointing to the horizontal doors behind Eren. 'Stick to the right. There is a guard post two turns down. Steer clear of it. Keep your head down and don't stop moving. Sector D, that's where you need to go. Do you hear me, Jaeger?'

The young man nodded.

'Find your father, and I will be with you soon.'

Eren was about to nod, when the words sank in. He caught Levi's arm before the older man could pull away.

'Wait... _What_? Where are you going?'

Levi took a deep breath and pointed deftly towards the spiral of descending stairs.

'Down under. I have unfinished business in cell block two.'

Eren shook his head, appalled at the very idea of parting.

'Are you kidding me? No... Fuck, no, not again. I am not letting you out of my sight. I will come with you; I can help too.'

Levi gave an exasperated sigh. 'Eren,' he said, 'You have your mission, and I have mine,' stressed Levi, giving him the push forward. 'Get going, trooper!'

'No!'

'Dammit, Eren. It's an order.'

The young man frowned and pointed at Levi's green jumpsuit. 'I am pretty sure you've lost all entitlements to order me around, _Captain_.'

Levi growled and caught his head again, bumping their noses together.

'I'll come back to you,' hissed Levi, gritting through his teeth. 'Wait for me.'

Eren stared, watching him evenly.

'Promise you'll come?' he asked.

Levi let a small smile unfold at his lips. 'You and your sentimental shit. Yes... it's a promise.'

Eren nodded and though he hated it, he gave in. He pulled out of Levi's grasp and steadied himself. He put on the helmet and strapped it on. Levi watched the moustache face disappear behind the dark visor when it came down with a resounding click. And just like that, Eren had transformed into the black guard once more. Before he could leave, Eren decided to hand over the Glock and the access card to Levi.

'I'll be waiting,' Eren reminded him.

Levi nodded in answer. The black guard pulled back and stood in rapt attention. He raised a padded arm and gave Levi a salute before turning towards the doors. Levi watched the younger duck his head and race for the exit. For a mere second, for a mere fraction of a second... he began to relive an old memory. Of sitting on training ground bleachers and watching a boy sprint. A boy in black slacks, sun kissed features. A boy with the wind in his face, a dust storm in his trail and laughter ringing through the grounds. Eren was always racing with the Gods of Titan; yet, they had nothing on him. Nothing at all. The image startled him, and Levi smiled despite himself. The horizontal doors opened and consumed the dark figure, leaving Levi standing alone in the bedlam of convicts and enemies.

Or maybe not wholly alone.

Seuss let out a low whistle, his eyes gleaming with a new light. Seuss looked like he had made a startling discovery.

'Wow, man. I just realised something. You guys are like Desperate Husbands in REAL LIFE!'

Levi sighed.

Seuss returned a dopey smile and gave the exit doors a fleeting look. He scratched his freckled nose, hoping to make a smooth getaway like the brunet had. But not without saying his goodbyes. After all, Seuss Doohan prided himself in being a good pal.

'Well, Vigilante,' Doohan said, stalking over to where Levi stood and giving the older man a vigorous handshake. 'Farewells are difficult. We didn't know each other much, did we? But know the funny thing about life, in the end, it doesn't even matter. What is creed, man? Nothing. We were like long lost brothers in there. With you stealing my toothbrush and glaring at me all the time.' Seuss chirped blithely. 'It was nice knowing you, man... I am gonna miss you. Honest,' the blue haired boy paused and pointed to the woofers. 'Hear that? That's the wild calling me. And you gotta answer the call of the wild. All the best with Sharkbait and everything,' Seuss paused, reflecting. 'Hell, you're going to need it,' the boy with the Mohawk hair gave his verdict.

Seuss gave a dramatic sigh, stepped back and tried to walk past him.

But Levi caught the collar to his jumpsuit and gave a low hiss.

'Where do you think you are going, Doodoo?'

Seuss returned a quizzical look.

'Uh, Freedom...? Liberty? The new frontiers? Riding off into sunset... that kinda thing?'

Levi shook his head and began pulling him towards the metal banisters.

'Not so fast. We've got work.'

Seuss stared at the man.

'Say what?'

 

 

 

 

 

The sound of the sirens was like music to his ears. The sound of the foghorns was even better, like a call of the muses. He counted the minutes, listening to every ebb and rise of the screeching horns. D.E. Lawrence finished relieving himself, zipped up his pants and let the autoflusher do its work. He paused briefly before the mirror to check his reflection. He smoothed the creases in his uniform and picked his teeth with a fingernail. It would be an understatement to say that D.E. Lawrence felt pleased with himself. He was more than pleased. He was elated. To have the Vigilante, nay... NAY, to have Rivaille Levi off the charts was to settle an old score that he'd carried like a chip on his shoulder for far too long.

His foul mood returned, when Gale interrupted his grooming session with an incoming transmission.

'Dot Pixis,' announced the network.

Lawrence looked at his watch, one brow raised. He received the transmission with the air of a general reporting success from the battlefield.

'Sir,' he greeted, sprucing up his collar. 'This is a pleasant surp–'

Dot Pixis was a man of business.

'Why is Utgard on high alert?' Pixis asked irritably. 'Explain to me why our _fortress_ is on high alert.'

Lawrence smiled. 'It's all part of the ploy, sir. Rest assured. A temporary remission to get rid of the Vigilante.'

Pixis didn't seem convinced.

'What have you done with the man?'

'He should be dead. Hopefully.'

'Dead?'

'Yes,' Lawrence acknowledged. 'I decided to put the ugly task to the guy you sent. It was a clever move, Commander. With the PeaceCorps here, no one can cry foul. If all goes well–'

'Lawrence,' cut Pixis in a strained vein. 'What are you blabbering about? What guy?'

Lawrence stilled, staring at his own reflection. He began to realise... that something was amiss. The warning bells in his head added themselves to the melee of sounds outside.

There was a long, hard silence and Lawrence remembered the black guard and his profile.

'Lords,' he muttered, realising the gravity of his mistake. ‘It’s a setup. It’s the kid. Shit!’

'No, son,' said Pixis, surprisingly calm. 'I believe the word that you're looking for is 'screwed.' And Lawrence, trust me, you've screwed up bad. Real bad. Do you realise what you've just done? You've given Grisha Jaeger an expressway ticket to get out. Grisha who, if I may remind you, evaded getting captured for over fifteen years.'

Lawrence clutched the comm.. tightly.

'I'll fix it, sir.'

'You better. Unless you want to take the Vigilante's place under the guillotine. If you lose the Grey Baron, the State will have your head, Lawrence. I assure you.'

 

 

 

 

 

Inventory was turning out to be a boring and stuffy old place. Especially for the broad inventive mind of Hanji Joe. The ponytailed woman held up a ziplock bag to the light, studying it curiously.

'Moblit, what do you see?' she asked her aide, turning to him squinty-eyed.

'A ring, squad leader,' Moblit offered benignly. 'I see a silver ring with stains of mud.'

'Aha, yes, yes... a muddy little ring. But what sort of ring?'

'I’m not sure what you mean, squad leader.'

Hanji feigned a sigh. She pressed a hand to her chest and shook her head.

'No, that's what the criminal mind wants you to think. Reverse psychology, Moblit. Use reverse psychology. It's a weapon pretending to be a ring. To throw us off guard. Primitive tactics.'

Moblit played along, returning a confounded look.

Hanji held up the ziplock bag to the custodian Mr Picoultz, a peevish looking man with a large nose and who kept rubbing a hand at the arrangement over his balding spot.

'We might have to take back a few of these. Get them dusted for prints, build our case against the Vigilante. Policy order 638, clause VI and etcetra, etcetera,’ said Hanji, removing her gloves by her teeth. She licked her lips and picked up the next item in the batch. The infamous Vigilante mask: white fabric with blotches of ink. The pattern changed even as she held it. Hanji stared at the thing, mystified.

Mr. Picoultz, the custodian, looked at her lost. He pointed to Levi's grappling gun, vial of nanodroids and folded trench coat. 'I can understand taking these. But the ornament?' Mr. Picoultz asked, looking doubtfully at the silver band. 'How would that help, squad leader?'

Hanji wrapped an arm around the man's shoulder and gave a sympathetic sigh.

'You didn't know him the way I did. He was a good friend of mine before he turned into... turned into...' she pinched her nose in disgust. 'Into THIS!' she muttered with a sniffle. 'If only I had paid attention back then, if only I had picked on the signs back then, none of this would have happened.'

The custodian looked as puzzled as ever. He held up the ring. 'But I don't understand why you need the–'

Hanji sighed inwardly. This guy was turning out to be a tough nut to crack.

She took off her goggles and wiped them across her shirt. 'Levi is the sort of man who won't carry anything unless there is a reason. And this ring,' she held it up for the man to see. '–must be very dangerous.'

'How so?' Picoultz asked.

'For starters, you can make someone choke on them.'

'Or poke someone's eye out,' supplied Moblit beside her.

The custodian watched them warily... but at long last, he gave in.

Hanji and Moblit continued inspecting the possessions that the custodian had laid out for them. It was at that moment when the first sirens were set off.

'Moblit, duck!' cried Hanji out of reflex.

Out of instinct, both laid themselves flat on the ground with their hands over their heads.

The custodian of inventory, Mr. Picoultz, leaned over the table to give the two PeaceCorps a curious look.

'What exactly are you doing, squad leader?'

Both Hanji and Moblit looked up at him in surprise. Moblit cleared his throat and attempted an explanation.

'The sirens,' pointed the man with the dirty blond hair. 'According to the security manual, aren't you supposed to take cover when you hear sirens?' he asked in earnestness.

The custodian smiled.

'No worries. It must be a drill. It's to test how quickly the troops can respond to an emergency. There hasn't been a single break-out in the last sixty years. The fortress is impenetrable, I assure–' he trailed off. For he could see prisoners in green jumpsuits running amok across the corridor. Mr. Picoultz stared at the peculiar sight, eyes widening as he grappled to come to terms with it. 'B–By Ness,' he mumbled in shock. 'This can't be happening.'

Hanji noticed the prisoners too and stifled the smile that was ready to break out.

Levi, she almost said aloud.

Hanji Zoe put on her goggles, and turning back to Mr. Picoultz, she regarded him in all seriousness.

'You were saying something about the fortress, Mr. Picoultz?' she inquired politely. ‘Impenetrable, you said?’

 

 

 

 

 

Home is where you are.

Home is... where you are.

Eren smiled despite himself. He flicked on the grid map and allowed it to steer him through the passage. The foghorns blared in every corridor, hallway and anteroom. Eren heard the woofers barking commands, urging everyone to stay put and stay calm.

'DETAINEES, DO NOT ATTEMPT AN ESCAPE! ANY INMATE SHOWING SIGNS OF RESISTANCE WOULD RISK—'

As Eren watched a pair of green suited prisoners run down the long hallway, whooping in mirth, he suppressed a laugh. So much for staying put, he said to himself. Eren fell away from the sound of people, fell away from the general crowd and took to the right wing as Levi had told him. Every place looked new and the walls seemed to converge around him. Eren approached an aisle painted green and in this desolate part of the prison, he found himself surrounded by signs that prohibited entry. Sector D, said a sign on the wall.

Sector D: The solitary confinements.

No wonder Levi had directed him here. Eren picked up his pace and ran down the corridor, looking through the glass windows of every white walled cell. Most were unoccupied, others held prisoners gagged and bound, rendered immobile and helpless. They couldn't see him... but he could. Would his father be one of them? What if he couldn't recognize the old man?

_Where the heck are you?_

He arrived at the last cell in the row, this one unlike the rest. For it was a brightly lit room with papers strewn across the lone desk and the door arched open. But not a soul inside. Whoever had been contained here seemed to have left in a hurry.

Frustrated, Eren braced himself and ran to the nearest turn. He entered a dark lounge and sped towards its end, aided by the light of his visor. Hanji's helmet led him through the darkness like a beacon of light. The grid map detected a presence not far off. Guards, he wondered. He hoped not. He couldn't afford the distraction. When he emerged out of the lounge, he found himself on a final passage: the exit corridor. Eren spotted two figures moving at a slow pace. He grabbed his helmet and was going to slip out of view, when something caught his eye. Something about one of them. Blonde hair pulled into a French bun. A female soldier. That beakish nose. A very familiar nose.

Eren shook his head, disbelief etched on his face. He walked towards them, as if a force were pulling him forward. His steps ricocheted in the cold-steel silence, and Eren could feel his heart racing as he drew closer. The girl had her arm wrapped around a shaggy looking man in white who could barely walk.

The peacekeeper seethed under his breath.

_Turn, turn around._

_Face me._

_Look at me._

At the sound of his footsteps, they finally stopped. The soldier turned and gave him a sidelong glance. Her features were sheathed in shadows, but Eren knew it was her.

Eren stopped, gauging the girl in silence.

Annie Leonhart removed her hold on the captive and faced him completely. Her placid blue eyes swept over his uniform and finally came to a rest over the visor. There was a flicker of recognition, and he had a feeling that she knew.

'Hello Jaeger,' she greeted with a chilling smile.

Yeah. Somehow, she always knew.

Annie cocked her head to the side.

'Come to get your daddy, Eren?'

'Eren?' the man beside her repeated, looking up startled. 'Did you just call him Eren?'

And there was the man beside her. Grey Baron. Research Scientist. Or whatever the hell, the State liked to call him. Of course, Eren had only known him by one name in all these years. He took off his helmet slowly and met his father's gaze for the first time in years.

'Hey dad,' said Eren.

* * *

 

 


	93. Sliver

 

 

Chapter-93- Sliver

~.~

 

 

_To pull the metal splinter from my palm_

_my father recited a story in a low voice._

_I watched his lovely face and not the blade._

_Before the story ended, he’d removed_

_the iron sliver I thought I’d die from._

The Gift, Li-Young Lee

 

 

 

It was funny in a macabre way. How much he'd wanted this grizzly old man to be gone from his life. Pretend he never existed. How much Eren hated carrying the name of Jaeger his whole life. And yet, here was Eren, face to face with his demons. Or maybe just this one demon: singular, aged, that gaunt face frozen before him. Grisha's hair framed his face, shrewd eyes sunken into alabaster skin. Eren recognised those wired spectacles perched crooked on a nose. His father was dressed in a tunic— handcuffed and barefoot. Thirteen years could do a lot to a person. It could turn people into ghosts; it could turn people into a sliver of what they used to be. Eren didn't know if it was the years spent on the run evading authorities or the weeks spent locked in prison and god-knows-what-else, but time had taken a heavy toll on his father. Grisha Jaeger looked nothing like the dad who’d once built Eren's school project— a solar system. Nothing like the man who had glued together the ring around Saturn or taught Eren about moons, the comets and the asteroid belt. A man who, once upon a time, had been Eren's entire universe.

Perhaps this was the truth Eren hated admitting.

Yes. The big, fat ugly truth.

That in all these years, no matter how much he hated the man, Eren wanted to see him again. Play catch with him like a regular son. Hear his dad cheer for him at every game. And most important of all, he wanted to hear his dad tell him ‘What happened to mom is not your fault. Do you get me, Eren? It's not your fault so stop blaming yourself.'

Levi had seen right through him. Eren did have a father's complex. A pretty bad case of it, apparently.

'Hey dad,' he said gruffly, unable to look away. His father returned no greeting and stood hunched and perplexed. Staring at him through that waterfall of scraggy hair, Grisha stood frozen in his spot: startled, tense and at a loss for words.

'Eren,' he rasped. 'What’re you doing here?'

The peacekeeper resisted the urge to make a face.

'What am I doing here?' he echoed. 'I’m rescuing you, duh,' quipped the young man. He turned to the blonde standing beside his father and watched her cautiously.  'You okay?' he asked his dad while his eyes remained fixed on his former partner.

Annie humored him with a smile. She gave him the once over before pausing to examine his face.

'Nice moustache, Jaeger,' she remarked. 'Isn't it too late in the game for a makeover?'

Eren threw her a dirty look. Crap. Hanji's stupid moustache. He'd almost forgotten about it. He brought a hand to his face and grabbing one end of his whiskers, he peeled it off in one smooth motion. The brunet had meant to carry out the move suavely, to announce to the world that Eren Jaeger had finally arrived and was here to stay... That was until he felt the burn of the adhesive ripple over his mouth.

'Ow— fuck ow,' winced Eren and pressed a hand to his face, trying to suppress the pain.

Stupid fucking adhesive.

He heard laughter and looked up to see Annie smiling.

'Nice. Welcome to womanhood, Eren. Now you know what waxing feels like,' she quipped with a smirk.

Eren rolled his eyes.

Really now. Were they going to be taking pot-shots at each other at a time like this?

Eren tried to ignore her and sidestepping her, he moved to help his father. But Annie intercepted his attempt, placing herself between him and his father. The smile never left her face. She tucked a strand of loose hair behind an ear and stepped up, blocking any view of his dad. 'Gosh, you're cute. That part about you never changes, does it?'

She was making fun of him.

She had the audacity to make fun of him.

'Very funny,' he said, still scratching the space under his nose.

Annie smiled, humoring him again.

'Lawrence said you wouldn't dare to come. But I knew you would. The class clown, the troublemaker... that's you, alright. Some things never change.'

Eren narrowed his gaze and jutted his chin towards her. 'Right back at you, Annie. You're still a traitor, I notice.'

Annie shrugged as she raised her hands, curling her fingers into fists. She held them poised and ready, blue eyes locking into his.

'What can I say?' she said, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. 'Old habits die hard.'

 

 

 

 

 

The curses, harangue and the barrage of ugly names didn’t cease. Foghorns were still bawling into the night, corridors swathed in red. Descending the flight of stairs quickly, the two men arrived on the second landing of their cell block. They paused only when a voice addressed them.

'Leaving already? Where's the fire, Vigilante?' a voice called out amidst all the banging and uproar.

Seuss didn’t expect his cellmate to stop, but he did. Something about the voice seemed to crawl up his skin and give Seuss the creeps. Levi paused to glance across the aisle, looking in the direction where the words had come from.

Belial was lounging on his bunk. Like a tyrant reclining on his self-made throne. Shaved head, stinted fingers clasped around an empty glass and the other hand massaging his kneecap. When Levi strode up to the laser barricade of his cell, a smile came upon Belial's features, stretching those chapped lips of his into an almost sinister manner.

'About time,' deemed Belial with a flick of his head. He grinned feebly. 'Have you decided to accept my offer? It's not too late. Release me from this slammer and all will be forgiven. I’ve got juice cards, mate.'

Levi stared hard at the man.

'I don't negotiate with douchcanoes,' he simply said. 'I came to say goodbye.'

Belial snarled and shot out of his seat. He walked to the yellow line, meeting the Vigilante's gaze with a hard glare of contempt.

'You think you'll be _safer_ on the outside, Vigilante? Think again!’ he cautioned. ‘I have connections both here and outside,' Belial warned, his loud voice bragging and full of bluster. He let out a bark of laughter. ‘You've got nowhere to run, pal. Your days are numbered. We know what you look like. We know your name, your address, everybody you hold dear and important. You can't hide behind the freak mask anymore. I’d be afraid if I were you…'

Levi gave a curt nod and leaned in aggressively, close enough to get his nose shaved off.

'You want me, huh? Come and get me,' Levi beckoned with a small smile of teeth, ‘But I don’t see you getting out of this shithole anytime soon. Might be two decades or more. You’re going to rot here your entire life, Belial. No shag, no juice. Tough luck.’

Belial's grip on his glass became frighteningly tight, until he raised his hand and smashed it into the laser barricade. The glass disintegrated, leaving no residue. The man with the broken fingers stood there, nostrils flaring. Levi didn’t bat an eye. Unfazed, he turned and pressed Seuss's shoulder, urging him to get moving. But before they could leave, the former lord of the underworld called out again.

'You are dead, Rivaille Levi. You are dead no matter where you go. You,' he laughed and lifting a finger, he made a slicing motion at his neck. '– and that _beau_ of yours.’

Levi turned and watched the man, grey eyes narrowed to slits. It was the sort of look that would have made better men cower in fear. But Belial wasn't intimidated nor was he done talking.

‘Yes, I saw him, alright,’ he sneered, lifting a hand to his mouth and taking a chip at his thumbnail. His eyes blazed with madness. He nodded. ‘Such lovely skin. An earthborn, isn’t he? Maybe I should make a rug out of him? No, I should bone him and _then_ skin him.’

Seuss saw the change on the Vigilante’s face.

‘You're just a small fry, Belial,’ Levi replied. ‘Start acting like one.'

Belial shrugged. 'A little birdie told me... you've struck a deal with Moloch. You think he's small fry too? You ever considered how he got that bloody arm of his? Such top-notch tech?'

There was a flicker in grey eyes. As the words took meaning.  Levi observed Belial for a moment but said nothing more. Deciding to leave Belial to rot in his chamber, he pulled Seuss's sleeve and headed for the doors.

 

 

 

 

 

The peacekeeper took off his helmet and placed it on the ground. Thus, rendered exposed and open, he held out his arms to pacify the woman before him.

'I’m not going to fight you, Annie,' Eren vowed. 'We need to talk first.'

Annie smiled at his attempts to parley but wasn't in the mood for a conversation. The blonde woman waggled her fingers at Eren, spurring him onward.

'You're going to give me the whole 'we are comrades' bullshit again?' she asked with a coarse laugh. 'Grow up, Jaeger. If you want your daddy, you have to get through me. There's no easy way out.'

Eren took a deep breath in. He looked over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of his father again. No easy way out, huh, he grimaced. He’d really like a cheat sheet now and then. An easy exit for once. If he had to take down a Titan invader, he paid the price of an arm. If he had to rescue his husband, he had to give up his one eye. If he had to rescue his best friend, he had to put his virginity on the line. For once in his life, yes, for once, Eren wished the universe would cut him some slack. God, he deserved it.

He turned back to his former comrade and shook his head.

'No,' he said, making up his mind. 'I won't fight you, Annie. I am sick of fighting; it gets us nowhere, dammit.'

The Viking woman rolled her eyes and let out a sigh.

'Wow. You really _are_ an idiot.'

Eren growled in answer. 'No... Not this time, Annie. Because, this time, you are the one who's wrong. Did the Titans ever tell you about what's going on at Ulkridge? Did they tell you what they've been doing behind our backs?' he waited for her to answer and when she didn't, he resumed, trying to look past her as he did. 'They have a nice little research center tucked up at Ulkridge,' said Eren, watching for his father's reactions carefully. 'And guess what they've been experimenting on, all these years?'

As he'd predicted, Grisha turned stiff, his face draining color. He turned and met Eren's eye, looking suddenly anguished at the mention of Ulkridge. Eren guessed he wasn't the only one troubled by old demons.

'People,' admitted Eren, looking at his father in disdain. He turned to his old partner. _'Our_ people, Annie,' he emphasized. 'Humans locked up in glass coffins like fucking test tube babies. All DEAD! The State's been lying to us for years! It's all a sham. Being a peacekeeper. Being a soldier. Protecting the worlds. _Everything_.'

Annie took a step back, bouncing on her heels. She turned between father-son and cocked up an eyebrow.

'What's your point?'

Eren looked at her aghast.

'What's my point? Don't you even care?'

Annie snorted, flapping a hand in dismissal.

'Not my problem, Jaeger. What do you want me to do? Sympathize? Cry boohoo?' her expression took on a steely edge. 'The world's never been kind to me, why the hell should I care?’

Eren clenched his fingers into a fist. 'Annie, c’mon! Can you hear yourself talking? Is that ONE guy worth all _this_?' he asked, gesturing furiously to the walls around them.

The girl said nothing. She watched him curiously.

'Really? Are you implying that you are any different?'

'Yes. I won't fucking sell out our people,' vowed Eren. 'No matter what the cost.'

There was an ugly twist to Annie’s mouth.

'Tell me then, Eren. If you had the choice between saving that one guy or your precious world, which would you choose?'

Here the peacekeeper was rendered silent, caught off-guard by the question. He tensed up, blinking at Annie in a daze.

'Tell me,' the girl urged. 'Duty or love? Which is it gonna be?'

Eren watched her cautiously. Where was she going with this? This was hardly the time for a game of ‘Would you rather?’

‘Tell me, Eren. What’s it gonna be?’

Eren swallowed hard and blinked in discomfort.

'I'll find a way to save both,' he offered.

Annie shook her head.

'You can't save both, Jaeger. Pick one! Duty or love, what's it gonna be?'

Eren scowled at her.

'I'm _not_ going to fight you, Annie. You can’t goad me into this. That's what they want, that's what the State wants me to do. And I won't do it.'

Annie smirked, hardly impressed. 'What are you?' she demanded, tilting her head as if considering him in new light. 'Who do you think you are, soldier? The Dalai Llama? Gandhi?' she joked.

'You can't provoke me,' Eren said.

The girl bit back a smile. There was a change in her as if she were accepting his challenge.

'Your mother would be so proud of you, Eren. She loves you dearly, y'know.'

Eren fell silent at that, turquoise green eyes widening a little. Annie tucked another loose strand of hair behind an ear, while the shadows of her face shifted. She turned to study her boots and smiled as she remembered something.

'Have you taken the subway before?'

Eren pursed his lips.

'What's that got to do with... anything?'

'I used to work at the gas pump. Late night shifts. Boring and mundane sort of work. My shifts got over at four and like every layman, I used to take the subway home, the 4:15 to be exact. Not a lot of folks around at that time, you know. But there was one guy who'd be wandering about on the platform. People called him the Wizard. Know why?' she asked him.

Eren didn't acknowledge her. He felt a dread seep into his being, his worst suspicions taking form and shape.  

Annie nodded as if the memory amused her. She looked up to watch him intently, preening herself. .

'Because he liked to pretend he was Gandalf. On Tuesdays, he thought he was Saddam Hussein. On Thursdays, he was God Almighty. Crazy people are fascinating,' said Annie, a corner of her mouth curling up. 'They see things that we don't. They believe things that we don't. The laws of physics don't apply to them. Nor does society. You of all people should know.'

Annie watched Eren press his eyes shut. Bingo, she said to herself. The peacekeeper looked visibly tense and was taking deep breaths in. As though he was trying to restrain himself.

'Tell me you didn't–' Eren said in a quiet, strained voice. 'Not her. For fuck's sake, Annie, she was already sick!'

'Aren't you curious to know what they see? What the inside of their mind is like?'

Annie heard the rattle of handcuffs and caught the movement behind her. She turned just in time to see Grisha raise his arms, with closed fists aimed at her head. But before he could pummel her, Annie ducked and slammed her foot into his ankles, tripping him. He was much too slow. The man toppled like a piñata.

Annie got to her feet and hovered before the fallen man, letting out a low whistle. Grisha groaned as she pressed a foot into the joint of his steel handcuffs, holding him down with a grunt.

'Force me to keep you as a prisoner. Not like a _guest_ ; so you shall pay your _fees_ ,' recited Annie dramatically. She caught the look of loathing on the older man's face. 'What?' she demanded with a laugh. 'Shakespearean got too hot for you, Grey Baron?' she pressed down harder into his cufflinks. 'That's no way to treat your gaoler, Mr. Sudoku,' Annie said, seething through her teeth.

She’d hardly caught her breath when she heard the footsteps gunning for her. Fast and heavy. Before she could turn to face him, a force tackled her from the side, sending her sprawling onto the floor. She hated these on-the-spur attacks. But that was the trouble with the Jaeger family. They never quite gave you a warning in advance. From her spot on the ground, Annie sat up and dusted the sleeve of her green jacket. When she looked up to see Eren, there was a familiar sight waiting for her. The sight of a beast, eyes blazing with that almost maniacal fury of his.

_Good._

_Get angry, Eren._

Annie took relish in the moment of Eren’s undoing. Yes. She'd finally managed to stoke that bloodlust of his.

 

 

 

 

 

Freedom, Seuss felt, was like all the women in his life. Scintillating to behold, a bitch at times and evasive to the touch. And so overtly dramatic. Sheesh. He didn't understand what he was doing here, trailing behind the Vigilante when he ought to be finding a way out of prison. He should be sneaking out rather than burrowing deeper into the slammer. Thankfully, they seemed to be getting closer to their target. Whatever the hell that target was. The decor of Utgard's High Prison took a turn for the worse (not that it had been a particularly breath-taking and exquisite Le Grande institution before but still.) With exposed wires jutting out from the ceiling, cisterns leaking noxious gases and a gazillion rodents scuttling for cover, this side of the prison story seemed dark and wretched.

'Wow,' said Seuss, scanning the place again and let out a low whistle. 'Titania's honeysuckle titties, this joint makes our cell look like a VIP lounge and that's sayin' something.'

Levi wasn't amused. He stopped and let his gaze rove through the tunnel. The man was on high alert, his senses keen, and the man had his bitch-face on. He stared over Seuss's shoulder and looked at something in the distance, features scrunched up in concentration.

'Get down,' he finally said.

Seuss, ever so faithfully slow on the uptake, looked back at him.

'Huh?'

Levi caught Doohan's shoulder and pulled the younger man behind a pillar. It was in the nick of time for Seuss heard shots ring out. The bullets skimmed the floor near his feet, but Levi wasn't the least bit perturbed.

He saw the man raise the Glock and aim it behind them. Seuss turned and discovered who the noobs were. Six guards were approaching them fast, shifting in and out of shadows despite being decked heavily in armor. Seuss watched as Levi closed one eye and took aim.

The first bullet grazed one guard's helmet, making him roll for cover. The second lodged into a man's leg, and the interloper went down like a bowling pin, howling in pain. The third and the fourth bullets he ploughed into the ceiling lights. The hits converged into a massive cloud of dust, with glass and sparks raining down on all of them. The guards were yelling at them to surrender, but the Vigilante had no intention of doing so.

Levi caught Seuss's shoulder and began dragging him away.

Seuss followed the arsonist open-mouthed.

'Dude, you just _saved_ me.'

'Don't mention it, Doodoo,' Levi said, as he removed the magazine and checked the bullets he had left.

Seuss followed him hurriedly, afraid to be left behind.

'Hey man, can I ask you something? What's sharkbait gonna do without ammo?'

Levi kept walking, grey eyes almost like steel.

'Where he’s going... he's not going to need it,' Levi answered.

 

 

 

 

_Journal Entry #86_

_Dear NASA,_

_Armin here. I’m about to embark on a whole new frontier. After sketching out a dunesnapper in #85 and a maxillus helumbary in #79 (please excuse the lines and shading, my alien friend was driving), I’ve decided to start this entry with a thesis on Titan’s gravity. My friend Mikasa tells me that Titan’s gravity is 34 tron-tics, which works to 9.8 in our standard units. Close to earth’s but fractionally on the lighter side. I can’t feel the fraction much. Too bad. If the numbers had been lesser by a whole degree, we could have bounced our way to Utgard—_

‘Hey choir boy, now is not the time for diary entries!’ said a voice beside him.

The blond returned his notes to his backpack unceremoniously, nodding to the freckled woman beside him.

For someone known for a squeaky-clean record on Earth, who'd never even gone skinny dipping or stayed up late on school nights, Armin Arlert was turning out to be quite a rebel-in-the-making. Since his stint on Titan, he had dabbled in: slave trade, government conspiracy, drug peddling and gate tailing (some true, others not so much).

Now, he had two more feathers to his cap.

Hijacking a transporter's vehicle and identity theft.

What next, Armin wondered.

Nevertheless, he decided against telling NASA about these shenanigans.

The sentinel at Utgard’s guard post shone a penlight at them while another quarantined the vehicle. Armin sunk into his seat, trying to turn invisible. Mikasa gave the blond an incomprehensible look before she attended to the inspecting man, showing him the stocks at the back of the cargo truck. The freckled woman stayed with Armin, sitting in the driver's seat, drumming her fingers restlessly over her console. Her name was Ymir, he was told. Both wore the uniforms of all corporate employees of Jupiter Inc: the standard beige overalls and the standard red caps, displaying the proud logo of 'Jupiter Foods and Produce'.

'C'mon, mate,' said Ymir to the guard, with her arm hanging limp outside the window. 'I've got a million places to be, a million things to do. This food here isn't going to pick itself up and walk into people's mouths, you know. Can you get a move on?'

The sentinel regarded her coldly.

'I don't need you to tell me how to do my job,' the guard muttered under his breath. 'I'm the one who gives the orders around here, girlie!'

Ymir threw her hands up in air.

'Jeez, alright, alright. Don't twist your panties into a knot. Sensitive, aren't we?'

The sentinel ignored her and looked down at the permit papers of the vehicle. He paused, to glance up at Armin again who sank even lower into his seat (if it were possible).

'Hey, you! Have I seen you somewhere before?'

Armin shook his head.

'No, sir,' he said.

The guard didn't look convinced.

'No... you look awfully familiar. I swear I've seen you some place before. On the news... Yeah,' his eyes brightened. 'That's right. I've seen you on the news,' he frowned, pulling at his goatee for he couldn't remember why exactly Armin had been on the news. 'Are you famous or something, kid?'

Armin feigned a scoff.

'Famous?' he asked, pointing to himself. 'Who? _Me?'_ Armin grinned feebly. 'Nah. Just a regular Joe here.'

Armin heard Mikasa cough from somewhere in the vicinity.

 

* * *

 


	94. Stalemate

Chapter- 94- Stalemate

~.~

 

 

Cell block two was a rat's nest, they realised, upon entering the premises. The stench was the first to hit them... the smell of unclean cells, the stink of poor housekeeping and human refuse. This side of the detention facility was the other side of the story never told. A place relegated for those not recognised by the State, those rendered nonexistent, stigmatized and blanked out from Titan's records. Cell block two was heavily overcrowded; jaundiced faces with dead fish eyes stared back at them, and there were just too many people assigned to each cell. There was no segregation for gender as well. The walls were a mottled grey, and as Levi and Seuss walked in, coughs wrecked the air. This side of the fortress had been strangely left unmanned. At the appearance of Levi, murmurs went about. The prisoners turned to them and recognised the Vigilante, his real face at least. Seuss watched the man take something out of a pocket. Holding Lawrence’s gift to Eren in his hand, Levi stalked up to the control boards and without losing a beat, he began swiping the access card at the gate of every enclosure. All while Seuss went about lowering the levers promptly.

The clamor of questions was replaced by shock stillness.

The barriers dissipated and the men inside the containments looked startled.

Levi gave the men a long glance and sighed wearily.

'What are you waiting for?' he demanded. _'Move_! Scram!'

The inmates emerged out of their trance and began to shuffle out quickly. Some still coping with the shock of their newfound freedom, while others scurried out in glee.

Seuss and Levi cleared the first three rows and arrived at the last aisle. And here, Seuss Doohan heard someone call his name.

'Seuss? That you, bro? Glory be Maél, is that you?'

The youngster turned around and looked towards the caller. He jogged over to the partition and peered inside. The familiar face of an old pal stared back at him.

'Kinsey?' asked Seuss, frowning.

Kinsey nodded fervently.

'Of course, it's me. Am I glad to see you, old poop! How are you holding?'

Seuss brightened up, ready to return the greeting… when he remembered the circumstances of their past. He wrinkled his nose. 'Wish I could say the same about you, bro.'

Kinsey's face fell.

'Oh, come on, Doohan. You can't be still pissed at me. Remember the fun times in Belemoth when we used to go around chasing 'em skirts? When we caught a ride together? Remember juggling juices between borders? That time in Monroe when we swindled that tourist and got conned ourselves? Good times, eh?'

Seuss snorted.

'Yeah, bro. I also recall the time when the _police_ came, and you bailed on me faster than a juggernaut on fire. Not cool, bro. Not cool at all, you shanker.'

Kinsey gave a pained expression, surprised that his buddy still remembered the incident.

'You still angry about that?'

Seuss stuck his tongue out at the man.

‘Mm hmm. As clear as _yesterday_.’

His friend turned desperate, resorting to wheedling. 

'Get me out, Doohan. Please. We can go back to the good ol' days of swindling. It will be fun again. Contraband, whores, rubbernecks, anything. Just get me outta this slammer.'

Seuss shook his head and pulled on an aura of self-pride. 'As tempting as your offer is, _frienemy_ , I've turned over a new leaf. I’m changed, transformed. I want to do something more respectable, bro. Start over again, become a new man and do my people proud. I’m even gonna get an education, bro.'

'Doodoo,' Levi called in an exasperated vein.

Kinsey cocked up an eyebrow at his old buddy.

'You want to become a new man called _Doodoo_? Why?'

Levi arrived by Seuss's elbow, his grey eyes flickering over to Kinsey.

'Who’s this punk? Friend of yours?'

Seuss nodded and jabbed a thumb at the man.

'True, we were friends. But we’re frenemies now. Can we leave him though?'

Kinsey turned afraid and began to plead earnestly.

'Oh, you don’t mean that! We’re buddies, Seuss. Remember the brother’s code?’

‘Yeah, my code died the day you betrayed me, bro.’

Levi cast an aggravated look at the two idiots and shook his head.

'Everyone gets out. No one from the subpar gets left behind.'

The boy with the Mohawk hair sighed and with a heavy, reluctant heart, he pressed down the lever. He watched as Kinsey shuffled out, muttering a thousand thank you's as he went.

'Now what?' Seuss turned to ask Levi, clearly unhappy at the altruism he was forced to display.

The man pointed to the tide of people hustling to get out. A tide that was on the verge of turning into a stampede of a very angry mob.

'You escort everyone to the nearest exit. Make a riot, Doodoo. The guards won't know what hit them!'

'And then?'

Levi smirked.

'You're free, kid. The world’s yours.'

Seuss froze. The realization that he was finally free hit him like a bucket of cold water. A smile graced his face, and he nodded with enthusiasm. Seuss turned, ready to embark on his mission when Levi called for him again.

'Doohan?'

'Yeah?' Seuss said, surprised that his cellmate had called him by his actual name.

'Give 'em hell,' were Levi’s last words to him as the Vigilante tossed Seuss his access card.

Seuss Doohan smirked as he caught the card.

'Aye aye, Captain.'

 

 

 

 

 

'ALL UNITS TO SECTOR 2! I repeat, ALL UNITS TO SECTOR 2!' a woman screeched through the woofers.

Strange enough, neither Eren nor Annie were paying attention to the announcements as they grew louder in their ears.

For someone who was so masochistically addicted to getting hurt, Eren had a reputation of being a heartbreaker. If he were to ever make a list of the hearts he’d broken, without a doubt, it'd be a long one. Eren hadn't been joking when he called himself a Casanova. He had turned down plenty of girls during his teenage years; then, there was Jean with his unrequited love, Jean's mom, that one guy 'Grapevine' who'd been more than a little invested in him, the ladies at the love motel and of course, Coach Finlay.

Yeah.

Perhaps, of all these people, the one he had hated disappointing the most was… Coach Finlay.

As Eren grabbed Annie by the shoulder, wringing her arm behind her back and attempted to slam her into the wall, he could hear Coach Finlay's throaty Irish voice as if the man were standing outside the ropes and cheering him on. 'That's right, Jaeger! Sock 'im with the left. Give 'im that sharp uppa' cut. Keep at it, Jaegermeister. A jab in the ribs, that's what the laddie is askin' fer!'

The only difference being: this was no amateur boxing match, nor could he call his opponent a laddie.

Annie was a living, breathing Medusa. A devil whose heart he wanted to rip off. And she was no rookie to power play. Not when her father had taught her the rudiments of arm-to-arm combat and kickboxing, when she was just seven. The girl pummeled back into him with a force that should be impossible for someone of her stature. Keeping with the momentum, Annie gave a nerve-rattling shriek, climbed the wall with the aid of her boot spikes and somersaulted over him.

Agile.

Lethally agile, Eren surmised.

Annie Leonhart made all his moves look like a child's play. A la tic-tac-toe compared to her shogi chess. It just wasn't fair. One moment he had her pinned to the wall. In the next, she'd wrestled out of his armlock and was standing behind him, aiming a sweeping kick for his head. She wasn't the sort to go for the broad muscles or the safe regions. No, Leonhart knew the human anatomy inside out. Annie's knuckles were aimed exactly for the tender spots, that were meant... not just to _hurt_ but to deliver a knockout.

Gritting his teeth, Eren ducked and ploughed into her middle, sending them both hurtling down on the floor. For the first time, he was glad for the Bastille suit that he wore. Yeah, advantage him. If he didn't have her speed, at the least, he still had his strength. He bet Coach Finlay (being an Irish gentleman) wouldn't have cheered for this unfair advantage, but hell, Eren didn't give a fuck anymore. The rage monster was awake and here to stay. With nothing left to lose, Eren snarled and straddled her writhing form; he pressed his elbow across her neck, meeting her sharp blue eyes with his own volatile brown. He felt the pulsating rhythm of Annie's heart throbbing in her neck.

The heart of his comrade.

At that very moment, he felt an overpowering urge to slice the skin open and rip that heart out. She'd deserve it. She'd deserve every bit of the pain and suffering. Because there had been a time when he'd understood Annie and understood what she was fighting for. He'd asked himself those same questions, searched for the very same answers. Was a world of harpoons, human atrocities, war and self-destruction even worth protecting?

No, it wasn't.

Annie was right.

What the hell was so great about Earth anyway? He remembered the snobs, the bullies and the monsters. Bloodshed was their history, present and the future. Nothing could change that. But now, he wasn't fighting for his world. No, his motives were baser, more personal now. If Leonhart had sunk so low as to infiltrate the mind of his mother– a woman whose brain was already fractured— the person Eren was supposed to protect... then Annie didn't deserve any mercy either. She was as terrible a monster as everyone else.

She seemed to read his thoughts.

The woman fought for gaining control but kept her eyes wide open, as a strained smile slipped her lips.

'Going to… kill me?' her voice croaked. 'Going to kill me, Eren? Can you even do it?'

Eren let out a menacing growl.

'Game over, Leonhart,' he snapped. 'Surrender.'

She wouldn't, of course. Not when they were both cadets of the 104th squadron. Keith Shadis didn't have the word 'defeat' in his dictionary, nor did they.

'Not until I call it,' she hissed, and her right hand slipped into her jacket, drawing out a knife.

She swiped it at him before Eren could react. The blade caught the underside of his arm, leaving a long thin cut. Eren recoiled with a grunt, clutching his arm furiously.

 _Stalemate_.

They drew back and stared, gauging each other in the wake of racing pulses and lungs fighting for air. Annie kept the knife up, holding it up in defiance. She coughed and pressed a hand to her throat where his elbow had dug in. She seemed surprised at the damage he could inflict.

She was surprised, true, but she was also enjoying herself.

'You're pretty violent, Gandhi,' joked Annie.

Eren bared his teeth in answer, still clutching his one arm. He couldn't really tell what she was saying. All he could think about was his mother. His mom at Stanley Memorial. His mom all alone.

'What did you do to her?' Eren demanded. 'Tell me the truth, Annie. What did you DO to her?' he roared.

Annie saw the anguish in his eyes. Her expression turned indifferent again as she circled him.

'Oh, don't worry, Jaeger. She's alive,' Annie answered with a noncommittal shrug. 'At least, I hope so,' she added with a meaningful smile.

Annie wiped her knife along the side of her cargo pants. She looked up to meet his eyes again. 'As for what I did to her? I used the TSM to get answers. I had no choice, Eren. Your mother is as stubborn as you; she wouldn't cooperate.'

Her words roused the attention of not just Eren, but also his father. Grisha looked up from his spot on the floor, glaring at the girl who had been his former warden.

Of course, no one could detest her more than the young man standing before her. Eren's demeanor showed a marked change. The signs of defeat were passing, and he was succumbing to those lower emotions of his.

Rage.

'You used that machine on her?' Eren asked in a low voice. 'She was sick,' he said. 'She was sick for a long time, Annie, and she was finally getting better,' he let out a low growl, startling both Annie and his father. 'She was my mom. How could you–'

Annie crawled over to him, brandishing the knife in his face.

'How could I?' she echoed in distaste. 'Why, it's easy, Jaeger. It's called being MEAN!' Annie watched him flinch and laughed tersely at his surprise. 'Now, do you get it? What it's like to lose your only family?'

Eren stared at her fervidly.

'You goddam bitch,' he muttered under his breath, his glance shifting from her to his father before returning to Annie again. Eren clenched his fists tight and raised them.

The blonde feigned a wounded look.

Annie enjoyed his second awakening. She flicked the knife from one hand to another. 'You sure you want to be mouthing off? Especially when I seem to have the upper hand? Not to mention, a _knife_ in my upper hand?'

 

 

 

 

 

Seuss thought he'd seen it all. But clearly, he'd never encountered men armed with chairs, steel pipes and their own weight, hurl everything at the enemy. Their enemy being a single entity wasn't as scattered as them, but while Utgard's mobile forces had the technology and the weapons to their advantage, this side of the revolt had the strength in numbers and the advantage of surprise.

But they hit an obstacle sooner than he could have hoped.

An entire band of men and machines Titan Guardbots FNA43 stood before Wing 1 exit, tasers zipping dangerously in air and guns aimed at them.

'Freeze!' cried the unit leader.

The rebels advanced, while Seuss stayed behind, watching the lights flicker above his head. There was a volley of shouts as a half-giant of Mediterranean ancestry wobbled his way through the crowd. His green jumpsuit was clearly too small for his large proportioned body, and he sneered at the soldiers.

'Freeze!' cried the unit leader, looking very much intimidated by the sight of this large man. 'Halt! We can tear you down if you move a single step–'

The rebels let out a war cry and charged on.

'Yeah! Go get 'em!' Seuss cheered before ducking and scuttling back into the huddle of his own men. Clearly, wing 1 exit was not the way to go. He retreated into the passage and decided to try his luck elsewhere.

It was here that he found a utility closet marked:

 

 

 

_Entry Prohibited_

_Authorized Personnel Only_

_DANGER!_

_POWER 1000 LwBU_

 

Seuss got a wicked idea, and he decided that if he couldn't help the subpars in person, he could at the least even out the playing field.

He placed a hand on the door. There was a flash of red light, and an alarm went off somewhere.

'Authorization?' asked Gale.

Seuss returned a foul look.

'Queen of Sheba,' he piped, looking hopeful.

'Queen of Sheba not authorized,' said Gale.

The boy with the Mohawk hair emitted a low growl... before he remembered. He still had the access card. Fishing out the Vigilante's parting gift, Seuss grinned as he wondered if this episode in his life would become a story to tell for years to come. He could imagine his grandkids (little blue haired devils) sitting by his knee and asking him about the heyday, when he led an entire revolt out of Utgard's State Prison: the most formidable fortress in all of Titan.

The door clicked open.

Seuss entered and smiled, as he caught sight of the power control.

He hoped that the desperate husbands came to like his parting gift.

 

 

 

 

 

The foghorns went silent, but Eren could hear something new. The sound of shouts outside and the steady strum of gunfire and rockets. There was a war being waged somewhere in Utgard, and oddly, he wasn't a part of it. He didn't know who was fighting or who was winning the fight. For a small moment, Eren felt panic course through him.

_I'll come back to you._

What if you don't, Levi?

Eren found himself bleeding from a nasty cut on his cheek. He tasted the rust of blood in his mouth, his insides hurt... hell, his outsides hurt too. Annie circled him languidly, while his father lay crumpled in a ball.

The woman had taken some damage too. Her shoulder was stiff from one of his 'throw-and-slam' maneuvers. But Annie was still smiling that triumphant little smile of hers.

'Look at us,' she said with a simpering laugh. 'Here in the most technologically advanced society... and we're still playing with fists and knives. Fucking cavemen, that's what we are,' she gestured to her bloody knife.

The brunet didn't acknowledge her.

'What's wrong, Eren?' she asked him. 'Where's your spunk, partner? Lost your drive?'

Eren snarled in answer as he sat up against the wall.

He wished he had something to work with. Something to level the playing field. Anything. A goddam chair. A gun. Even a friggin' nail cutter.

The Gods of Titan seemed to hear his prayers at long last. It was at that moment that there was a buzz overhead and the lights went off, throwing the corridor into utter darkness.

'Yeah,' Eren thought as he charged blindly forward. He pulled his fist back and launched into a whirlwind of blows. 'This would do,' he said to himself.

The power outage had surprised her, but by no means, slowed her down.

Before he could land a solid punch in, his left fist struck her elbow and sent a sharp shooting pain through his body. In the mad grapple for control, he felt her hands twist around his vest and she kneed him in the gut. Eren fell back in the darkness, coughing. But Annie wasn't done. She caught his head and slammed it against the wall. Fucking one man army, Eren remembered against the pain that wrecked through him.

Eren went down but not without her. Despite the wind knocked out of his lungs, he yanked her down by her neck. They rolled against each other, hitting and swerving into the walls of the exit corridor. His helmet rolled between them, until Annie thrust her elbow out and smashed it into his abdomen. It was like Training Corps all over again... except this time there was neither reputation to save nor a trophy to win. It was pure desperation to save himself and those around him. Apparently, it was the same for Annie.

Before they knew it, the emergency power was on and the return of the lights blinded them both. Eren was breathing hard on his back while Annie hovered over him, keeping him at length by the one foot pressed into his stomach. Her sleeve was blood stained.

Eren winced and looked around, searching for his father.

There was no sign of the man. The knife lay discarded on the floor and a trail of blood led down the exit corridor.

He didn't want to believe it, but the signs did not lie.

His father had left him behind.

Annie noticed the man's absence and laughed at him.

'Look at that. Daddy's gone, Jaeger.'

She blew out a raspberry at him. Growling, Eren caught her foot and pushed with all his might. But she pressed down harder.

'Oooh, did I make you angry? Aw, is poor Eren baby hurt that his daddy abandoned him _again_?'

Eren squinted at her, his jaw set tightly. He bit into his lip, drawing blood.

'Shut... _up_.’

Annie stared him down.

'You're all alone again, Jaeger. How does that feel? The man you came to rescue just packed up and left. Like you meant nothing. Poor you. So pitiful.'

Before Eren could reply, he heard a click. He looked up in time to see Annie get hit by the blunt end of a gun. The force sent her skittering on to the floor. She massaged the side of her face and looked up at the new arrival in immense distaste.

A hand sought Eren's elbow, pulling the younger to his feet.

The man kept the Glock trained on Annie and shook his head.

'He's not alone, blondie,' said Levi. 'Not when he's got _me.'_

 

* * *

 


	95. Demons

 

 

 

 

Chapter-95- Demons

~.~

 

 

Years ago, when Eren was a bit of a reckless idiot (perhaps more than a bit), he and Armin would camp out in front of the local comic shop. Eren would indulge himself in the latest adventures of ‘Fantastic Four and the Silver Surfer’ while Armin would draw sketches from Darwin's 'On Natural Selection'. That's when horsehead Jean Kirstein would show up, uninvited as always, flitting past them on his dorky little skateboard. The show off. The pompous airhead. Until Eren ran out of names to call him. Suffice to say, encounters with the ashbrown ended the same: there’d be a stupid bet— a daredevil task—  and then, either Jean or Eren would end up in infirmary nursing a broken arm. When it came to skateboards, it was always Eren who found himself on the wrong side of the curb.

And just when he thought his skateboarding days were over, the peacekeeper found himself suffering from the worst possible concussion… in the entire _history_ of concussions.

The sirens were still blaring, giving him a massive headache. Eren sat up with difficulty and tried to catch his breath. His head ached as if a hurricane was pounding inside his skull; his right arm and knuckles hurt like the devil. He lifted his head, allowing his gaze to move the line from Annie to Levi. He regarded them through his hazy senses. Both wore the face of anarchy— the same cold and hard expression. Same look, but they weren't even on the same side. He watched as Levi loaded a magazine into his gun and held it level, aiming the revolver's muzzle at Annie's head, his one finger set on the trigger— ready and poised.

The older man paused to give Eren a glance.

'If I'm late, it's because I couldn't find a mag for this,' said Levi, gesturing to the revolver in his hand and turning back to Annie. Levi scanned Eren out of the corner of his eyes. 'You alright?' the older man asked him.

Eren noted the concern in his voice.

The peacekeeper gave a shaky nod as he staggered to his feet. 'Y–Yeah,' said the young man, and turned to the trail of blood leading down the corridor. 'Dad's gone,' Eren mumbled, running a hand through his hair, looking vexed. 'I can't believe I lost him. He was right here a moment ago.'

Levi's gaze flickered to the bloody trail and keeping to his reservoir of calmness, he turned to the blonde.

'Eren, go. Find your father,' Levi told Eren, keeping his gaze fixed on Annie.

Eren pressed his mouth against a sleeve of his suit, wiping the blood from his bruised lips. He shook his head. 'No,' he asserted and considered the woman in the offing. 'I’m not leaving you alone here, Levi. Not with _her_.'

At his words, Annie tilted her head to one side and regarded them. A coy smile darted across her lips.

'You're talking about _me_ , Jaeger?' she said in a teasing voice. 'Why, I’m just a helpless little girl. Two against one is hardly fair, gentlemen.'

 _Helpless,_ Eren thought.

_Yeah, right._

The peacekeeper glowered back at her, his fingers itching to reach out and throttle her. Watching her movements cautiously, he walked light-footed to the place where her knife lay compromised and exposed to the open. He picked it up and returned to Levi.

But the older man had no plans of keeping Eren by his side. With the service revolver locked on Annie, Levi reached for Eren, caught the brunet's shoulder and gave him a nudge forward. 'Go after him,' he said, directing Eren's attention to the corridor beyond them. 'I'll take care of this one,' said Levi.

Eren looked between the two, not convinced.

'Levi, you're underestimating her. Annie's dangerous! She...' Eren's face twisted as he turned and gave his former partner a look of intense loathing. 'She hurt my mom.'

The hand on his shoulder reigned steady, never loosening its grip.

'Eren, quit stalling. Go.'

The peacekeeper refused.

'No! I’m not leaving. She needs to pay for what she did–'

Levi turned to him and gave Eren a stare down.

'You've lost track of the goal. Rescuing your father was your mission, trooper; everything else is a distraction. Don't forget what you came here to do. Get going.'

'But–'

'I said I will take care of this one, didn't I? Now, quit yapping and go find your father.'

Annie raised an eyebrow. She took a step back, bouncing on her heels and watching their exchange in amusement.

'My, my, how cute. The husbands are trying to _save_ each other.'

Rattled, Eren opened his mouth to argue before he caught the stone-cold expression on Levi’s face. The older man's demeanour switched to apathetic, his grey eyes going watchful and sharp as they considered Annie Leonhart. Eren knew that 'no-holds-barred' face. Levi wasn’t going to take his 'no' for an answer nor was the man fond of being second-guessed when issuing missives. The peacekeeper took a deep breath and gave a hesitant nod towards Levi. And then, without a word, he picked up his helmet and broke away from the two in pursuit of his father.

When the young man's steps had receded, Eren’s footfall disappearing down the corridor, Levi turned back to the woman.

Annie looked over her shoulder, at the path Eren had taken.

'You sent him away,' she observed. 'Why? Afraid I'd hurt your _precious_ protégé?'

Levi cracked out a small smile.

'Eren can take you on, blondie. But not when he's half blind,' Levi paused and looked at a bruise visible on her wrist, a bruise which was turning deep purple. 'Looks like he did enough damage with one good eye.'

He saw the girl scowl. Annie preened the material of her arm, rolling down the cuff and pulling a sleeve over the wound. Apparently, she hadn't noticed it until now.

Levi smirked.

'I used to believe Eren was the troublemaker. But you eclipse him, Leonhart. Are _all_ you Earthborns the same?'

A shadow passed over Annie's features as she scanned the man from head to toe, taking in his green jumpsuit.

'Oh,' she snipped back. 'I get it now. So, you were the masked creep, Corporal? What was your name again? _Vigilante_ something, hm?'

Levi grunted.

'Seems like Lawrence doesn't tell his minions everything.'

Annie pursed her lips, flexing her fingers in a menacing stance.

'Either way, I don’t really care about the details,' she muttered under her breath. Her blue eyes flickered to the walls of the exit tunnel, scrambling for a way to intercept Eren before he got to his father. The gears in her head churned, thinking of the infinite possibilities to allay this man before her, to take Eren’s guardian out of the equation. She didn't intend to let her quarry slip, not after the long way she'd come. Annie considered the man standing before her. Levi was oddly calm, unreadable, and it aggravated her a little. She knew how to fight an armed opponent; she knew how to tackle foes bigger and stronger than him. She could do it alright, but she needed to know what he was thinking first. Eren was easier to read, so easy to manipulate, but _this_ guy– he was a brick wall.

And as if to prove it, Levi lowered his gun and tossed it on the floor, away from each other's reach. He walked over to Annie, startling her with this surrender. She didn’t expect it.

'You don't care?' he said to her. 'You sure about that?' Levi asked, stopping inches before her and meeting her brazen gaze sharply.

The girl docked a punch at his head. Before Annie could even make contact, he caught her fist in his and held down the offending arm with a strength that surprised her.

'I’m not here to fight you,' the man breathed. 'You are not my enemy, kid.’

The girl in the green hoodie glanced at him warily.

'I’m not a child. Don’t lecture me. God, what is it with you two?' Annie hissed through her clenched teeth. 'First, Jaeger. Now you. We are soldiers, fighting is _all_ we know.'

Levi regarded her carefully.

'No. You're a peacekeeper. It's time you remember it… or this war will prove too expensive for you,' said Levi and released her fist. He took a step back. 'Dita taught you, didn't he? Time to go back to your lessons. What's the first casualty of war, soldier?'

Annie didn't answer.

'I’m not here to take your pop quiz, Corporal. I was never in your squad.'

Levi paused.

'You’re right. I wasn’t. But the lessons are the same. The first casualty of war… is truth,' said Levi, his expression turning solemn. 'You like snooping into other people's files, right? Maybe you should look at your own.'

For the first time, the carefully preserved facade of the lioness showed signs of cracking.

'What… are you talking about?' she screeched. ‘Fight me like you’re supposed to.’

'Your file,' emphasized Levi, not giving in.

'Why?'

Levi cast a look over her shoulder, looking at the corridor beyond them. It seemed as if he was contemplating something. He turned to Annie and seemed to make up his mind.

'Titan has been experimenting on mutations and bio warfare for a long time.'

Annie scoffed at him. 'This again? Save your breath, sir. If you're going to lecture me on how my world needs me, you're wasting your time. I don't give a flying fuck about anyone.'

Levi surveyed her.

'You sure?' he challenged the blonde. 'You must know the cardinal rules of a PeaceCorp, soldier. But I bet no one taught you the cardinal rule of being a _Titan_ ,' he nodded at her silence and feigned a smile— a smile so bitter it seemed to weigh down on him. 'Quid pro quo. Give and take. And when we Titans don't have anything to give, we create a bargaining chip. Do you understand?'

She didn't.

'Tell me, Leonhart. Where do you think your friend got his cancer from?'

 

 

 

 

 

The trail of blood led him farther into uncharted territories. The seemingly endless corridor was converging to a close. With one hand gripping his helmet tight, Eren floundered his way to an electric door fenced by a grill. The door didn't prove to be much of a resistance. Someone had taken an axe right through its middle, knocking the barrier off its hinges and leaving it to stutter with sparks. Was it his father, Eren thought. He didn't stick around to admire the handiwork. The peacekeeper scurried out of the wired mess, a chunk of his suit getting warped in the wires and he had to wrench himself free.

He blinked when he found himself in a clearing.

The ramparts of the military fortress stood like giants, surrounding him on all sides. Dawn was beginning to break, Titan's sun awakening from its long slumber. Against the tinted blue shadows, the watch towers stood like giants, their alarms blaring on high alert. He spotted the garrison on the parapet, being mobilised into units. Utgard's forces took cover behind their battlements, their long-ranged artillery directed towards the ground. No, not aimed at him… but at a different sort of enemy. Eren could hear the clamour of men shouting as they arrived on scene.

And he realised who they really were.

Men in green jumpsuits ran amok— some wielding weapons, others using bare fists. They winged shots and hurled curses at any man or machine that heralded the State's colours of black and blue. One of them, a gun-toting middle-aged Scarface, a bulging man with a gut that hung off him like a sack of flour, stopped before Eren, staring at the peacekeeper in a mix of paranoia and suspicion.

It figured why.

Eren was still decked in State uniform.

'Uh, hey,' said the brunet, greeting the escaped convict with a nervous smile. 'You didn't happen to see an old man with glasses walk by here, did you? He's about as tall as me, has a beard, dressed in white and a tendency to desert his own offspring. So, did you see him?’

Scarface wasn't exactly helpful.

The man growled at the sight of Eren's bastille suit and marked Eren for an enemy.

The peacekeeper raised his arms, backing away and shook his head vigorously. He tried to placate the man— a man who was gargantuan by proportion and not the type to rationalize. 'No, listen. I’m one of the good guys, dude,' Eren insisted, frowning at his choice of wording. 'I mean, the bad guys. _Dammit_ , I don't even know which side I’m on in all this fiasco,' he added aside.

The prisoner didn’t believe a word of Eren’s. He wore a green jumpsuit just like Levi’s, and his eyes screamed murder. He raised the gun in his hold, taking a aim at Eren. Apparently, Scarface wasn't the sort of man who risked his freedom on chances. Well, nor was the peacekeeper from Earth.

Eren steeled his nerves and without losing a beat, he ducked and dived into him, ploughing into the man’s middle. Tackling Scarface to the ground, he yanked the gun out of the felon's hands and delivered a swift blow to the side of his head. Scarface never saw it coming; his trunk twisted and he gasped out, face-planting into the mud.

Eren took a moment to catch his breath and glanced at the knocked-out man.

'Sorry,' the brunet hissed, standing up straight. 'I told you I'm on your side, but you just wouldn't listen.'

Eren took the laser gun from his opponent and pulled the strap over his shoulder. In all the chaos, the peacekeeper looked around the wide field, searching for his father again. Where the heck _was_ his old man?

He didn't find his father but instead, Eren found dark shapes gliding towards him. It was strange how they ignored every man in their path— these creatures bypassed the incarcerated felons, convicts and made for him alone. Eren. It was strange how the things never took their eyes off him.

Almost as if they knew.

Eren cursed as he slipped the helmet over his head. Dropping the visor glass, he activated the grid and the one-to-one link, never removing his one good eye from the monstrous machines.

'Hanji!' he called into the link, desperation lacing his tone. 'Hanji! Answer me, Squad Leader.'

The link cackled. 'Yes, Yes, I’m here, my favourite Earthborn!' chortled the woman. 'Have you cleared out yet?'

'Negative. I need backup! Immediately!' said Eren, grabbing hold of the unconscious man and dragging him out of the war zone. He pulled the convict to the safety of a stack of drums, aware of his own heart racing in his chest. 'You remember the Titan Invader at Avalon Gate? Well, I've got THREE of them this time, and they're looking at me as if it's Christmas come early. And don't you dare ask me what Christmas is,' Eren cast a petrified glance over his shoulder and saw the machines closing in. 'I need backup, Hanji! Or you're gonna have a _dead_ favourite Earthborn on your hands. I swear I’m not kidding.'

He heard the senior suck in her breath. 'Eren,' she spoke calmly but he detected a defensiveness in her tone. 'I’m sorry, but I cannot help you out in the open.'

'What?' Eren muttered incredulously.

'I can't help you, cadet. I have my orders. The PeaceCorp division can't risk a direct involvement in this operation; it would jeopardize the whole plan.'

'WHAT KINDA LOUSY PLAN IS THAT?' he practically hollered back at her.

'Get to safety, quick,' she said and cut the link.

Fucking grand, Eren thought to himself.

He left the unconscious man behind the stack of drums and with a deepening sense of dread, he turned to face his opponents.

As the supermachines approached him, towering eight feet easy and a hulk of metal to behold, Eren cast a strangled look at the heavens.

'Come on,' he told those invisible gods. 'This isn't fair. Cut me some slack already.'

And Eren had every right to be angry.

The three models of Titan Luminous 52 (that's what the lettering on a side panel proclaimed) surrounded him in a circle like monsters looming over him.

The first came forward, raised its scalpel arm with every intention of snapping him between its claws. Eren straightened and leaped, rolling between its feet. The stunt confused the machine mercenary long enough for him to grab its ankles and pull himself up by sheer grit. Eren darted up quickly, fingers working, ragged—climbing over panels and pulling his weight up— but he had no bearings this time. No gear or the aid of his zirconium blades. This time there was no horseface either to give his bright (and incredibly stupid) ideas. Nor was there any suicidal mutt to save him.

He was on his own, but he had no intention of dying here in Titan.

No effing way.

Not when he promised his mother that he'd come for her. Carla’s voice rang out from memories.

 

_Stay safe. Always stay safe._

 

Eren cascaded up to The Thing's shoulders, his steps slippery on the metal. He climbed to his feet, unsteady. The thing swirled on its spot, making Eren’s world lurch with it. The other two Armored AIs stood immobile and confused, not wanting to hit one of their own. Licking his lips, Eren latched himself to a ridge in his mascot's shoulder and drew out Annie's knife. He struck the knife into its nape.

There was a clang of metal against metal. A painful screech.

But no substantial damage.

Great. Another upgrade. The Titans had given their machines carapace armor. He couldn't even pry open the spinal circuit.

The Titan giant swerved about wildly, careening sideways and crashed its back against the building of Sector D. The peacekeeper hung on, feet grinding on metal. It dawned on Eren that the AI machine was trying to toss him off. Just when he thought he was going to get squashed like a bug, he heard his name being called.

'Eren! Get down!'

The peacekeeper looked to the ground and found a gangly man in white standing outside the ring of giants. Grisha Jaeger held a hose pipe between his hands, face looking white as a sheet and a nasty gash oozing from one shoulder. His tunic was staining red from the wound, but the madness in his eyes remained lit.

'Get down,' his father yelled. ‘— before you get yourself killed.’

Keeping a capricious hold on the Titan machine, Eren slammed his visor up and stared at his father stunned.

'You're going to hit it with water? How’s that supposed to help? This is a _machine_!' he screamed back.

'Get down, son,' his father said, oddly calm. 'I know what I’m doing. I designed the early prototypes of the Luminous. I know its weak points.'

Eren cast a disgruntled look at his father.

'Christ, tell me _one_ thing you've created that hasn't killed someone yet.’

Grisha smiled through those round spectacles. It was a forlorn smile.

'I made you,' the man paused, 'And you are the greatest miracle of all.'

Eren went rigid and stared at the old man, taken aback by the confession. He blew out a noisy breath. 'Yeah,' said the peacekeeper, lowering his head and beginning his climb down the machine’s carapace. It lunged at him and Eren swung under its arm. 'Your point is moot, because I've almost got _myself_ killed plenty of times!’

Eren let his hold on the Titan machine slip and sliding down its writhing body, he landed rough on the grindstone. He rolled— pulling away as fast as he could— missing being squashed by a massive foot. His father waited until Eren was safe out of firing range before turning on the nozzle. Heaving, Eren looked up just in time to see a jet of acrylic liquid gush out and pour over the machines.

TJ Propellant, Eren read the tiny lettering across the hose pipe and watched as his father searched for a match on his person.

'Oh dear,' mumbled Grisha, turning to his son in a fit of panic. 'I forgot…'

Eren gave him a deadpan look.

'You didn't bring matches? How the–'

And that's when his father caught sight of the gun on Eren’s shoulder and pointed to it. ‘Quick!’ he urged and Eren understood. The brunet ducked and slid the gun across to him. Grisha Jaeger picked up the gun. Holding it in his novice hands, he scanned the semicircle of armored machines, taking aim at the one in the middle.

'Eren. Step back,' he said. ‘I need a hit at their power source.’

The peacekeeper rolled away from a scalpel arm as the giant on his end swatted at him.

'Uh huh. You know where it is?' Eren asked, groaning from his efforts.

'I designed these devils. Of course, I know where it is! Get back now!'

Before the brunet could process the command, his father pressed the trigger. The thing about laser guns that always surprised Eren was the fact that he could never see the death ray. God, Hollywood had it so wrong. You'd think there would be enough time to scoot or run for cover, just as they showed in the movies. But not in real life. The moment his father hit the trigger, the impact was instantaneous, and the power source hidden in the armored giant's chest burst into sparks.

It was enough to light the pool of fuel around it.

The Titan machine found itself swallowed by a raging ball of fire. Eren watched the burning Titan crash against the side of the prison, making the wall cave in around it in concrete and dust. There was an explosion as the flames converged around the other two machines, now snowballing into a massive fire. The sirens changed tones, signaling the change in emergency.

Both father and son ducked through the spiraling haze of smoke and heat— coughing as it began to fill their lungs and made their eyes sting. Their throats burned. Noses clogged.  But then, they heard footsteps, brisk and determined... until a shadow emerged through the smoke.

His face stern as if he was holding his breath, Levi grabbed them both by their collars and dragged them away.

'Chip off the old block, aren't you?' he heard Levi mutter as the man hauled them to safety. 'Suicidal maniacs... the two of you.'

Eren smiled, though it was hardly the time to celebrate.

The brunet cast a glance over his shoulder. He saw the fire rage as people ran amok, Utgard’s forces diverting their attention to putting out the fires instead of the prison run.

'Eren!' yelled a new voice, this one awfully familiar.

Through his sooty and pained vision Eren turned to find a freight truck parked at the sally port. Jupiter Foods and Produce, it said. Unfamiliar, but then, he recognised the girl sitting in the driver's seat, with the red scarf around her neck.

Mikasa.

'Looks like our ride...' smiled Eren, breathlessly. '...is finally here.'

 

 

 

 

 

When D. E. Lawrence stumbled out into a balcony to review the damage done, the sight awaiting him left the man astounded. A steady column of smoke rose from scorched ground where three models of Titan Luminous 52— Titan’s best soldiers— lay in a charred heap. The jail block Sector D stood devastated, its section caved in. A deputy from the garrison guards was giving him stock of the situation, running him through ground reports. 186 detainees had managed to walk or rather _run_ scot-free, the voice on the comm. stated. A great many of them belonging to Cell Block 2, which was no coincidence, Lawrence assumed. Utgard's three guard towers were found ruined, the arsenal plundered, and nineteen vehicles were hijacked by rioters. Apparently, the garrison was putting together a last minute task force to chase the runaways and attempt arrest.

But Lawrence wasn't bothered about the small fishes.

He'd lost the biggest of them all. One man– the one man who could set asunder the State's best-laid plans. And it was all because of his carelessness.

D. E. Lawrence didn’t have blotches on his record, but _this_ … this defeat was an embarrassment he'd never be able to live down.

To make matters worse, the media hounds who'd come sniffing for the _Vigilante_ story were capturing every second of it. There was the girl from Ulkridge News, some paparazzi bitch called 'Hitch' who'd been nagging him for comments relentlessly. Lawrence scoffed at the very suggestion.

The agent of the Military Police could imagine the headlines tomorrow.

 

_Historical Humiliation: Biggest Prison Break in Nearly a Century_

_Rubor! Rubor! Rubor! Utgard Brought to its Knees_

_LE DESASTRE: What ever happened to the Formidable Fortress?_

 

Gale buzzed in his watch, signalling an incoming call from Hitch of UN207.

That girl again.

In a fit of fury, D. E. Lawrence switched off his comm. and strode back inside, cursing under his breath. He had hardly taken a step forward when he noticed a shadow following him. Lawrence stopped and cast a dark look at the woman behind him.

'Still here, Leonhart?' he asked, voice scathing as it addressed her. 'Go home, sweetie. You are as useless as a–'

He choked on the rest of the words, for the girl had shot forward and wrapped a belt around his neck, wringing it. Lawrence snarled and clutched at the band but her vice like grip tightened.

'My bad, Lawrie,' said the girl. 'But unfortunately for you, we are not done yet.'

 

 

 

 

 

'Jupiter Foods and Produce' left behind the city– the foghorns, the vision of red hot steel and blazing fires. He didn't remember when they passed out of the city's perimeter. He didn't think they'd ever make it out of Utgard or its prison fortress. But if he were to take Armin's word, that's exactly what they had done. They had left behind the military capital. The cryovolcanoes swallowed the last of the bubble city– a city still smoking from the center of its proud Colosseum.

Eren crumbled into a corner and buried his head between his arms. He could smell the fresh vegetables in the crates around them: lettuce, icuan, turenchillas, bell peppers and the rest. The scent of food reminded him how hungry he was. How long till Maria?

He tried not to think of the road ahead, tried not to think of his mother back home.

He heard footsteps and looked up groggy-eyed. Armin joined him with a box of first aid tucked under his arm. His best friend scooted over to his side and began drawing out the supplies.

Eren protested.

'I'm fine, Armin. My dad's the one who needs–'

'You sure?' the blond cut in. 'I think your fugitive husband's got that covered.'

At his questioning look, Armin pointed to the back of the truck.

It was at this juncture that Eren noticed the men. His father lay exhausted on the floor of the vehicle, while Levi tended to the elder's injury, wrapping a strip of bandage around his father’s shoulder. Calm and tolerant, working industriously as he always did. For someone who was paranoid about germs and obsessed with cleanliness, Levi did not flinch at the thought of helping the injured. Whether it was a stranger like Jerome or even if it was… Eren's father. The peacekeeper suppressed a smile.

'You introduced them yet?' asked Armin, cutting through his thoughts.

Eren shook his head, feeling embarrassed in turn. 'No,' he confided in a small voice.

'Why the hell not?' asked the blond, looking puzzled at him.

Of course, Armin wouldn't understand how he felt. His best friend was a genius at Quantum Mechanics, World of Warcraft and Fixing Alien Puppies… but when it came to relationships and family, Armin didn't get it one bit. Eren pressed a hand to his jaw and sank into a huddle, drawing his arms around his knees. Yeah. How was he supposed to introduce them?

'Can you imagine how that'd go?' Eren asked his best friend and gave a snort. 'Hey dad,' Eren said, pretending as if he were talking to an imaginary person on his left. 'I'd like you to meet the _Vigilante_. You know… State's Most Wanted. Leader of the Underground. Arsonist. My superior, husband and oh yeah, your _son-in-law_ ,' Eren gave a nod and turned to his right. 'And hey hubby, this is my deadbeat dad. Most Wanted No 2 aka the guy I thought I'd never ever see again! So, here we are… the three of us. Hug each other, build a canoe, and go fishing, whatever!'

Armin was smiling, amused at his impressions. He dabbed some antiseptic on Eren’s arm where Annie’s knife had shaved him.

'Bet you are Most Wanted No. 3,' quipped his best friend, a smug grin plastered to his face.

Eren rolled his eyes. 'Yeah? You and horseface are in the top ten, no worries.'

Armin nodded and pulled back the swab of cotton.

'We've been through some amazing shit, haven't we? I mean, we are on another planet, Eren. Do you realise how crazy that is?'

'No kidding,' mumbled Eren. 'I am a half-alien, in case you forgot.'

'Yeah, that too,' the blond acknowledged. ‘I can’t wrap my head around that either.’

Armin gave a fleeting glance at the two men behind them. His smile soon faded.

'Don't know why you're worried, Eren. Seems like they'd get along just fine.'

Eren turned to the pair and realised… that Armin was right.

His father was barely conscious, but Eren could see his lips moving, those withered lips forming words— Grisha was speaking feverishly— words directed at Levi. The man decked in the green jumpsuit didn't speak much in return and kept to his task, but Eren saw him nod once or twice in answer.

It was a startling sight. This vision of his dad being actually there in flesh and blood. Right before him. Nor did the vision end there. His father was talking to Levi, and not in a way akin to strangers who had just met. No, it almost seemed like they knew each other.

The sight was peculiar and unsettled him.

Eren felt the sting of the antiseptic. Wincing, he turned to the blond boy before him. Armin too was distracted and was shooting cautious glances at the two older men. And from his expression, Eren knew Armin was thinking along the same lines.

The two boys exchanged a look.

'Maybe, it's a Titan thing,' said Armin, as he cleaned the cut on Eren's face next. 'It's a small world, after all.'

'Small world… huh,' trailed Eren, chewing into the corner of his mouth.

He wished he could believe it. He wished it were as simple as that. But the doubt lingered as he watched Levi again.

His best friend caught his chin and forced Eren to look at him. 'Hey!' barked Armin, sounding annoyed now. 'You can gawk later. First, we got to fix you up,' Armin grimaced as he studied Eren's battered face, bruises already turning purple. 'Christ, who did this to you?'

'Annie,' Eren answered simply.

Armin stared at him.

'A girl? You got beaten to a pulp by a girl? Horseface is gonna have a field day when he hears this.'

They both shared a quiet look before bursting out into laughter. Eren smiled despite himself.

'I missed you guys,' he admitted. 'I mean it. Thanks for coming.'

'Thank your sister,' said Armin, jutting his chin towards the front of the vehicle, where Mikasa was reading a map while Ymir drove ‘Jupiter Foods and Produce’.

When Armin began to rummage through the first-aid box in search of a fresh roll of cotton, he caught sight of a pair of tweezers. 'Eh? What's this?' said the boy as he held the instrument up to the light, studying it curiously. Before he knew it, the tweezers gave a whine and began snapping in air on their own accord.

While Armin fumbled with the strange instrument (trying to figure out how to shut it down), Eren's attention drifted back to those two ghosts of his life.

His father, the Grey Baron, was finally resting, tucked under a layer of blankets that Mikasa had fetched for him. His chest rose and fell, one thin arm rolled over his stomach. Levi had left the man alone, retreating to a corner. Here he knelt to greet a droid waiting for him. Levi scratched Krobe behind the ears and the pup wagged its tail, greeting its old master with a happy bark, ever the virtue of obedience.

Eren smiled as he watched them from the corner of his eyes, feeling calm and homesick.

It was nothing special. Just one of those moments in life, ordinary and familial in nature. What was so great about a robotic dog greeting its human owner? Nothing much, not unless that robodog was named Krobe, the mutt with nine lives and not unless the person indulging it was… Levi.

He had almost given up hope on them.

Almost.

To think all those days he spent searching for Levi… and the man was right there beside him.

The tweezers had stopped snapping, and Eren found Armin looking at him.

His best friend sighed.

'Go,' nudged Armin, flicking his head towards Levi. 'Go, talk to him,' mouthed the shorter boy. 'That's what you want, right?'

Eren nodded reluctantly and giving his friend a smile of gratitude, he picked himself up from the crate of lettuce. But before he could check up on Levi, before he could reach the older man, Ymir raised her head over the top of her seat. The tall, gangly woman pointed to a receiver attached to the dashboard.

'Hey,' she called in a drawling voice. Ymir sounded bored as if jail breaks were a part of her daily routine. 'Hey PRISON DUDE,' she said, gesturing towards the receiver. 'We've got an incoming call from Maria. Someone called Farlan. Know him?'

Levi gave Krobe a lingering pat on its head before setting it down. He gave a curt nod and made his way to the front of the vehicle. For some strange reason, he walked right past Eren, without acknowledging the boy as he went. Not a word or a smile. Which was… alright with Eren. Yeah, it was totally cool. It wasn't like he was an attention seeking, spoilt brat. He had grown up, right? Sure, he'd just helped the man-of-his-life break out of prison, but that didn't mean Eren wanted to be thanked for it. He wasn’t petty.

No, Eren Jaeger didn't need 'thank you's or 'I love you's. But he did want Levi to look at him. Just once.

Because ever since they'd been rescued by Mikasa and co., Levi seemed to be avoiding him.

He’d greeted Armin, Krobe, even spoken to his father but why wouldn't Levi look at him?

Eren heard someone call his name. His father was awake again and trying to get his attention. Eren watched him grab a box of turenchillas and saw the man force himself up to a sitting position.

'You shouldn't be doing that,' said the peacekeeper, as he walked over to his father and knelt by his side.

Grisha looked up at his son, a smile flitting past his cracked lips.

'Are you concerned about me?' he asked Eren, watching his son in ardor.

The brunet shook his head.

'Of course not. You're a stranger to me. But you're important to Mikasa… I respect that.'

His father's smile faltered at those words but didn’t contest them. Eren didn’t mean to sound cruel, but there were some things he just couldn’t let slide. One right did not resolve a lifetime of wrongs. Grisha winced before pulling himself straight. Heaving, he watched Eren for long, drinking in the sight of his only son. His father’s mouth favored a ghostly smile again.

'By Maél, you are taller than I thought you'd be.'

'Yeah?' asked Eren, his spirits damp. He didn’t really want a part in this conversation.

'Yes,' Grisha nodded, his wrinkled eyes never leaving Eren. 'You're all grown up, son.'

Eren rolled his eyes though he felt the slightest tinge of embarrassment. He flushed and averted his gaze to the front of the vehicle, opting to watch Levi in the awkward silence. Eren cleared his throat before he felt like speaking again.

'Time… doesn't stay still, does it?'

Grisha grunted. 'It’s odd. That's what Carla used to say–'

At the mention of his mother, they fell silent, guilt consuming both father and son. Eren watched his dad as he slumped against the wall of the truck, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. Grisha Jaeger looked like a wraith, a phantom from bygone days. The vehicle rumbled on ahead, Ymir's driving as crooked as her cigarettes.

'Eren,' his father called as the vehicle jerked a sharp right.

Eren looked up as Grisha reached out with his hand— a hand so bony and gnarled as if it was reaching for Eren from the grave— and his father caught the string around Eren’s neck. The key tinkled as it left the confines of his collar. Grisha studied the universal gate key and gave an ill-pleased smile as if amazed at his own creation. But pride gave way to misery soon. He dropped the key and looked into his son’s blue green eyes. Who did he even inherit those wondrous eyes from?

'Listen. You need to go back, my son,' said his father, his voice sounding strained.

Eren flinched at the name, bitter memories resurfacing. 'I know that,' Eren grumbled. 'I don't need you to tell me—'

Grisha caught his hand and held on, his fingers digging into Eren’s wrist.

'No, you need to return to your world and stay there. Never come back. You get me, son?'

Eren froze, staring at him.

‘What?'

'We are closing the gateways, Eren. We are closing them for good.'

_We?_

His throat went dry and his eyes sought the one pillar of assurance that had always stood by him. Levi was still on call, holding the receiver to an ear but his back was taut like a wire, and his other hand clenched into a fist.

Something had changed.

For both of them.

 

_Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind_

_Cannot bear very much reality_

_Time past and time future_

_What might have been and what has been_

_Point to one end, which is always present_

Burnt Norton, T.S. Eliot

 

 

 

* * *

 


	96. Vikings

 

 

 

 

Chapter-96- Vikings

~.~

 

The Titans did not bury their dead. Everything they did; everything they believed in, from desert storms to acid rain was somehow entwined with the tragedy that fate had in store. The fading of the dwarf sun was always on their mind, if not at the forefront of their thoughts. And that's why, they didn't bury the dead. Instead, Titans built a coffin for their fallen kin, laid the dead among the desert marigolds, thistle and leaves and then, lit the bough. They sent the slain to the realm of the Sun God. They sent the dead to Maél, hoping he'd be appeased.

A Viking funeral.

That's what they gave him.

A funeral pyre and a round of gunfire for the martyr.

Someone joked (Eren didn't know who) but one of the rebels joked that if Magnum had to go, this was exactly what he'd have wanted. To go out in style. Blazing guns and hell fire and all that jazz.

As Eren looked at the redhead kneeling on the ground, her hair undone from the clasp and blowing with the wind... as he saw the sharp-tongued, quick-witted Isabel Magnolia press a teary kiss to her infant's forehead, Eren couldn't help but think that they were wrong. It was all hogwash. Magnum would have never wanted to leave, not when he had his whole life ahead of him. Not when he was the proudest father Eren had ever seen. Eren watched as Farlan walked over to Isabel and wrapped his cloak about mother and child. Sol was admirably quiet. Perhaps, children knew the truth even if they lacked the powers of speech and language. Or maybe, she had cried herself to sleep again. Eren couldn't tell.

Isabel wasn't the only one to shed tears. Magnum was a member of the community. People knew him; people loved him. His comrades, his drinking buddies, the merchants, the old lady he greeted at the bazaar every day, everyone was here. Everyone in Maria.

'Heard they chopped off his hair first to humiliate him,' a mourner said. 'He loved 'em… those dreadlocks.'

'Those goddam motherfuckers,' croaked another in anguish. 'Was it _revenge_?'

'I heard a rumor. Seems they wanted an Earthborn hiding among us. Some high prize of the military. Well, whoever he is. I hope he's happy. Magnum didn't deserve to die for some pussy-footed _coward_.'

Eren stilled in shock, but felt Armin's hand on his, trying to reassure him.

The peacekeeper couldn't bring himself to face any of them. So, he stood in the company of his friends. Armin, who was as pale and solemn as himself while Jean and Marco refused to look at the burning pyre.

There was one man missing.

Ever since they arrived in Maria a night ago, Levi had taken off from Chromium Shark and disappeared with Hunter and a whole brigade of rebels. No one had heard from him ever since.

It was odd… so very odd.

Just when he thought that they'd come to understand each other, just when Eren thought he'd found Levi at long last, uncovered the face behind the mask, Levi was slipping from his grasp again.

They heard shouts and turned around to find the crowd parting. Two men were being let through.

Eren recognised them. Levi and Hunter.

The raven-haired man was walking towards the burning corpse, a frenzied pace in every stride. Like the others; he had an offering for Magnum too. No marigolds, thistle, wreaths or anything of the kind from the Vigilante. What Levi had in his gloved hand was a mechanical arm. A mechanical arm that was sodden red on one end and looked like it'd been freshly separated from a live body.

Moloch’s arm.

Eren recognised it, and his eyes widened a little. He wasn't the only one.

'Is that…?' Farlan began to ask, but he didn't finish his question.

Levi walked up to the pyre. With a bitter chuckle, he lifted the prosthetic arm and tossed it into the burning mass. Metal hit wood, creating a volume of sparks, and the fire raged on undeterred. Magnum, ever the smiling defendant of the Vigilante, accepted his captain's offering as graciously as always.

Eren watched Levi's back in the silence. He knew now… what had changed.

The mask was back on.

And this time, it won't be coming off either.

Not even for Eren.

 

 

 

 

 

Chromium Shark had lost one of its own, but it hadn't closed shop. The doors of his second home were still as warm and welcoming as he remembered. Eren and his friends, having washed the soot from their faces, shuffled downstairs into the kitchen... to the one place, where Magnum's memory was strongest. But this time there'd be no one cooking them pasta or urging them to take second servings or getting whipped by their bossy wife. Henpecked, loving and a confidante for everyone. Magnum was gone, truly gone. The truth hit him hardest here. That's when the peacekeeper realised what was so unique about Chromium Shark. The inn was impartial towards every one of its visitors, welcoming one and all. Even if it was a day of mourning, even if the inn had lost its prodigal son, it turned away no one. Not even a coward like himself.

And the tradition continued... because at the dining table, sat an odd company. Eren's father with Mikasa by his side, Dita Ness, Mike Zacharias and Commander Erwin Smith– the various faces of the PeaceCorp army. Marco assumed a pose of rapt attention, reverent to his seniors as always. While Eren did no such thing. He and Jean watched the PeaceCorp leaders guardedly, not sure what to make of their presence.

'Hello Eren,' greeted Erwin with a benevolent smile. 'It's good to see you. You look well.'

The keeper said nothing in return.

Farlan was standing against the countertop, arms folded over his long cloak. His stealthy gaze was fixed on the commander in nothing short of hatred. Apparently, there was no love lost between them.

Erwin, though aware of the tension in the air, was the very picture of stoic composure.

'I assure you, Church,' Erwin spoke up, looking at the walls dispassionately. 'I would be happy to be out of your hair at the first chance I get. But I’m here on business.'

Farlan regarded him in distaste.

'Business? We've lost a member of the family, Commander. Forgive me if I'm not exactly feeling very hospitable. My people and I would like to grieve in peace. The army has no _business_ to be here.'

'We heard about that,' interrupted Erwin, exchanging a glance with Mike. 'I've lost soldiers too, Farlan. I understand how painful it is, believe me.'

Farlan scoffed. 'Oh, I bet, you do,' he said and gave Erwin the once over. 'But we don't need the army dog's sympathy. Who invited you, Erwin Smith? Who gave you the right to walk in here—'

'I did,' a new voice spoke up. They turned to find Levi walking into the kitchen. He was no longer dressed in his prison clothes. Nor was he wielding the Vigilante's mask and attire. Levi had taken to wearing a loose button up shirt over his dark pants. His familiar blazer hung over his shoulders. The man pulled up a chair and flopped down on it. 'I invited them,' he announced in a gruff voice. ‘We need to chalk out a plan.’

The rebel leader scowled at his captain.

'You can as well go to the roof, Levi, and flag down one of the drones searching for you. Announce to the State that you are here. RIGHT HERE!' the man with the dirty blonde hair pressed on edgily. 'Endanger more of our people, why not. Are you thinking straight? Are you even _thinking_ anymore?'

Levi watched his comrade but remained unfazed.

'I’m thinking, alright. I've been thinking for a long time, Farlan. And it ends here. All of it. The small battles you are waging against the State won't get us far. It's like stealing crumbs from their table. We need to hit them where it hurts the bastards.'

'And where's that, sir?' asked Hunter, appearing at the doorway.

No one said anything until the answer came.

'The gateways.'

It wasn't Levi who had spoken, Eren realised. But his father. Eren’s hand twitched at the words, dread seeping into his being. The Grey Baron sat silent and calm at the table while wringing his hands before him. Mikasa passed a strange device into his veined hand, and Eren watched his father nod in gratitude.

'The Titan State holds the gateways very dear. Dearer than its own people,' Grisha informed them.

'Yeah, so what?' asked Jean. 'What do the gateways have to do with anything?'

'Anything and everything,' explained Erwin, looking up at Jean and favoring the youngster with a smile. 'The gateways are the portal to your world, Kirstein,' the smile disappeared as easily as it had come. The commander's handsome face swept a glance around the table. 'You've heard what Eren saw at the Research Centre. The State has been dabbling in biowarfare for long, and you do remember who the test subjects were.'

He allowed a small pause here before answering.

'Yes. Your people. Did you ask yourself why?’

'Invade?' Jean finished, going sickly pale. 'Shit, you’re saying they are planning to invade earth?' He turned from Erwin's face to Mike's and then to Eren, looking aghast at all of them. The ashbrown shook his head at the commander of the PeaceCorps. 'No offence, sir, but that sounds like baloney. Why would the State recruit us as PeaceCorps if they were planning an invasion from the beginning? It goes against logic!'

Eren's eyes widened.

There it was.

A fault in the scheme.

'Jean's right,' said Eren, speaking up for the first time. He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to keep himself from sounding hopeful. Please be wrong, just be wrong somehow. 'It doesn't make sense. We were meant to protect the two worlds. Why would the State recruit us, train us–'

A chuckle interrupted his rant.

It was Levi who spoke next.

'Look at you, fruitcakes. You think you are so important?' said the morose man, flicking a speck of dust from his sleeve. His voice was caustic and unnervingly cold. 'Pawns, that's all we are. PeaceCorps are means to fortify the gates. So that Titanbots can slip in and out undetected by your people. And when they are no longer needed, you gofers can do the cleanup. Everything was a rouse, everything was a setup,' Levi paused, letting his words sink in. Eren knew Levi was speaking to him, and yet the older man wasn't looking at him, avoiding Eren. Not even a glimpse at him. 'Why do you think you were never allowed to reveal your identities on the other end?'

Grisha Jaeger cleared his throat, nodding in agreement.

'Divide and rule,' said Eren’s father, staring blankly ahead.

Farlan made a scratchy noise from the back of his throat. He looked at Levi peevishly.

'What does this have to do with _us_ , Captain? The gateways don't concern the subpar, Levi!'

The Vigilante held up a hand to quiet his friend.

'No, Farlan. That's what I thought in the beginning. But they do matter. The gateways are our bargaining chip.'

Jean scoffed, steeling himself for the barbs.

'For real? You guys can't be for real! So, what are you planning to do? Gonna blow up the gateways or something?'

There was a silence— a nervous silence all around— and the ashbrown realised latently that this was exactly what they had in mind.

He hesitated, looking around in surprise.

'Y-You can't be serious!'

Eren watched his father sit up straight. The man took off his glasses and looked at the table, his manner grim and foreboding. He spoke softly, spoke pointedly. His mind set on the task ahead.

'You are right, young man. We will close the gateways. Every gateway owned by the State. We’ll destroy them all,' vowed Grisha. ‘It’s time to set right the wrongs.’

No one spoke. And immediately, every eye fell upon the young man standing amidst them. The one boy who held their high stakes at the cost of his own. The peacekeeper kept his gaze fixed on the floor. He hated being the center of this scrutiny; he hated the fact that they were all looking at him in pity. Most of all, he hated how that one guy won't even look at him now.

Eren found his voice at long last.

'There's got to be another way,' he found himself saying before he could even stop himself. His voice shook a little, sounding subdued and desperate, grasping at straws, anything, even at the risk of looking juvenile, but Eren couldn't care less. If he didn't say something now, he'd have to hold his tongue forever. And at this moment, forever was his enemy. There had to be a way to counter this abject plan. Another way, _goddammit._ Because he couldn’t deal… he couldn’t deal with _this_.

'No, Eren,' his father's voice broke through his thoughts. 'There's no other way. You and your friends... have to go back, my son.'

Eren turned to look at the man. His extremities shook with every ounce of repressed anger— rage that’d been accumulating for years with no outlet. But now he was at his limits.

'I’m not your son,' he said thickly. He looked at his father, the ghost of yesterday and bared his teeth. ‘Who gave you the fucking right to tell _me_ what to do?'

His voice was raised, shaking, and Eren realised everyone was staring at him now.

Grisha Jaeger looked cowed into silence. His face went sickly pale, his knuckles turning white on the table. 

Eren stared him down. 

'Who do you think you are, huh?' he asked the grizzly old man sitting calm in his chair. 'Don't walk into my life and pretend to be my dad all of a sudden! It doesn't work that way!'

'Eren,’ Grisha began, standing up.

The peacekeeper flinched.

'I warned you. Don't call my name,' Eren snarled viciously.

'Son, you can't let your personal feelings—'

Here, he completely lost any semblance of composure. Eren scoffed in indignity.

'My personal feelings? MY PERSONAL FEELINGS!' he roared. 'Fuck you! What the hell do you even know about me?' bellowed Eren, blinking furiously at the man who professed to be his father. He let out a hollow laugh that rang through the dead silence. The peacekeeper raised a hand and pointed to the end of the table bitterly. He pointed straight to the one man who still refused to look at him. 'See that guy? That guy over _there_? Mr. Pokerface? Mr. Vigilante? Yeah, well, know what? He's been my dad, my mom, my... _everything,_ ' Eren said. 'He's the only one who's been there all these years, and you want to take him away too. Thanks a lot. Thanks a fucking lot!' 

The outburst left him gasping for air. Eren pressed a hand to his face, hiding it in anguish; and then he pulled away from everyone, pulled away from the room itself and darted for the backdoor. Without another word, he left the meeting, slamming the door behind him as he went.

A tense silence lingered in the counsel. No one knew what to say or what to do. For a moment, everyone's troubles had been eclipsed by those of a youngster struggling to come to terms with his own. Grisha stood frozen in his spot, staring at the closed door-- a door still rattling in its frame. Eren's outburst had cut through him, startling the older man. The words had been savage and had laid bare all the old wounds. When Mikasa reached for his hand and gave it a supportive squeeze, Grisha returned a sorrowful smile and nodded to himself. As though he deserved the lashing out.

They heard the scraping of wood against floor.

All heads turned to the front of the table and found Levi rising out of his seat.

The man looked to the door.

'I'll talk to him,' was all he said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Talk to him._

_Right._

_Easier said than done._

Especially when Levi found the brat hiding behind a post of the water rig. It was the same place that the Vigilante ventured to play catch with Eren not too long ago. Why, he still wondered. To make amends?

Today, there was no one around to work the rig. The machine sat silent in the backyard of Chromium Shark, silent and forlorn. But Levi could hear sounds. There was the brat sniffing, crying... and refusing to show any of his vulnerabilities to anyone, especially to Levi. For a short moment, it was as if Levi was transported back in time. It was as if he was standing in the living room of #1263 again and watching a teenager cry about his mom... like a baby.

Always a crybaby.

But this time was different.

This time those tears that Eren shed were for him.

Levi kept a careful distance from the young man. He took the blazer off his shoulders, rolled it to a lump and sat down on it. From this vantage point, he could see the slope of those shoulders shaking and those tanned fingers clenching and unclenching. Barely able to hold it in.

The older let out a misplaced smile.

'See, sunshine?' called Levi. 'See what happens when you don't let me be the bad guy?'

The younger paused and looked over his shoulder, turning his tear-stricken gaze to him.

'You knew, didn't you?' Eren asked, though he knew the answer already.

Levi regarded the younger and growing solemn, he returned a nod.

'Not much... but enough. Yes.'

Eren turned his back to Levi and hid himself behind the rig post again. Levi watched the peacekeeper shake his head, a scoff leaving him. The young man wheezed, laughed and cried again, as if caught in a turmoil of emotions.

'God, you are an asshole,' Eren finally said, wiping his nose on a sleeve.

Levi watched him wordlessly.

'You sure?' Levi challenged, his grey eyes held a glimmer of mirth. 'You just announced to a whole bunch of people that I was... what was it again? Right. That I was your dad, your mom, your... _everything_. You forgot the bit about being your hero though,' Levi remarked. 'Nice going, _Oedipus_.'

'Jerk,' Eren cut in.

'That too.'

'Prick.'

'Granted, I might deserve that.'

Eren Jaeger left his hiding spot and faced him finally.

And there was the youngster in full view. Messy brown hair and those vivid ocean eyes giving him a pained stare, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

'You should have _told_ me,' Eren pressed, gesturing wildly between them. 'God, all those times we were fighting... you should have come clean.'

Levi didn’t stir from his resolve.

'It wouldn't change the outcome.'

Eren growled, shaking his head furiously.

'Dammit, Levi. You’re not even willing to give _us_ a try!'

Levi said nothing. Instead, deeming the conversation to be going nowhere, he got up from his seat and prepared to leave.

'Levi,' Eren called from behind him. 'Stop! Don't you dare walk away, please!'

The older man stopped in his tracks. He waited for Eren to speak and when the boy did, the words didn’t surprise him.

'Ask me to stay,' Eren pleaded, his voice filled with despair. 'Ask me to stay and I will, Levi. You know that.'

Levi shook his head.

'I’m not giving you that choice, soldier.'

'Why?' hollered Eren, his anger echoing through the empty backyard. 'You _always_ let me make my own choices. Why the fuck won't you let me make THIS one?'

Levi turned to him sideways, his face carrying a small smile. But eerily, that smile was like everything else. A carefully constructed sham to fool others.  Because in those heavy set eyes of his husband, the peacekeeper caught the truth. A hint of lingering sadness.

'Because you'd regret it,' Levi told him. 'You belong in your world, trooper... and my place is here.'

Eren shook his head in denial, clenched fists shaking at his sides.

'Tell me the truth. Am I… that easy to throw away for you?'

Levi watched him evenly, and the smile disappeared.

'No. I've just had more time to cope with it.'

 

 

* * *

 


	97. Choice

 

 

Chapter-97- Choice

~.~

 

 

Two days.

Two days until they set the plan into motion. Anything less would catch them unprepared. Anything more would risk tipping off the State. The plan had been christened 'Operation Blackout' by Commander Erwin Smith, though Jean— ever the devil's advocate— took to calling it: Operation 'There-are-a-million-ways-this-could-go-wrong-and-I-don't-wanna-be-there-when-it-does.' It was a mouthful to say so the name never stuck.

Eren couldn’t hear the voices from his room. The core of the counsel had moved into the basement of Chromium Shark, where the conspirators went through the plan repeatedly, chalking out details, leaving no stone unturned; so that every glitch, every flaw and every loophole could be discovered and resolved at the earliest.

Two days, said the voice in his head. Two whole days meant he had just forty hours to make a choice. A choice between this world and… his. Which one did he prize more? Who did he want to be with? Perhaps, the biggest question of all— _who_ was he willing to leave behind? As time trickled by or rather flowed past him with the ferocity of a turbulent river, the key around his neck grew heavy. Heavy like lead, drowning him in the river of memories.

Resting cool against the skin of his chest, it would have looked like an ordinary piece of metal to a casual observer. But over the years, this key grew into an extension of him. Eren slept with it, showered with it, took it to school with him and traversed the universe with its aid. Eventually, he forgot about the stupid Frodo key… forgot it was even there. Like a birth mole that one grows used to with time. Or the scar on his knee from hockey practice. But now… it was something else. The key had turned into the metaphoric albatross, a dead bird hanging around his neck.

His gift _and_ his curse.

They didn't need him. Yes, no one needed him, Eren reminded himself. Everyone just wanted the key. The goddam key.

So, Eren was left alone. Eren Jaeger, who liked being the centre of action, and who had hitherto been the lovechild of Trouble and Temper; had been left out. And much to everyone's surprise, he yielded. He stayed out of their way too. The young man confined himself to his room and shut himself between his four walls. Eren sat on a bunkbed, with his knees drawn to the chest, head buried in the fold of his arms, biding his time.

He wondered if it was just him who felt this way. Maybe Levi had moved on already while he was the one still stuck in the rut. Yet as he heard the canter of feet shuffling up and down the inn’s carpeted stairs, he didn't recognize Levi among them. He wouldn't be surprised if his guardian was locked up in his room. Perhaps Levi was battling demons of his own, trying to come to terms with the death of his crew member. Did he blame Eren too?

_What’re you thinking?_

_What's going through your mind, Levi?_

Two days. Forty hours.

Two thousand minutes.

And twenty steps were all that separated them.

Eren couldn't bring himself to cross the distance. It'd be so easy. All he'd have to do was roll off the bed, amble over to the door and walk out into the inn's hallway. Take a left and walk those measly steps that separated them. But Eren couldn't do it. Those twenty steps could easily change into two million light years and a goddam _forever_. And he still couldn’t do it.

Eren wasn't terribly intuitive. But even he grew aware of the whispers and the pointed looks thrown his way. His friends were concerned about him. They understood, but they didn’t know how to help him. Armin Arlert reprised his role as the casserole delivery guy while Marco would sit beside Eren and recount the times spent at the Training Corps. But Eren couldn't eat or drink, for everything tasted like the sand of Maria's dunes... even Keith Shadis impersonations couldn't evoke a smile out of him. When neither the Titan nor the Earthborn seemed to be able to cheer him up, his two best friends decided to team up.

'You should have been there, Marco,' Armin could be heard saying. 'We were caught in a do-or-die situation in this _gigantic_ fortress, and this idiot is standing in the middle of it. The machines looked humongous, like they were made of hard shell, just like in the Predator movies!'

'Predator?' asked Marco, turning puzzled.

Armin pulled a face, reminding himself that his freckled acquaintance wasn't as familiar with Hollywood as with books.

'Predator's a cult classic,' the short boy chirped, nodding in enthusiasm. 'Especially Predator vs Alien. Anyhow, the point is... I would have peed in my pants if it were me. But not Eren. No, sir! I mean, he latches on to the middle one, climbs up like a monkey,' Armin gestured wildly, making swooping motions, '–draws out a knife, all ninja like, as in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Next thing we know, Mr. Jaeger comes out with a hose and BOOM! Fire and smoke everywhere. It was _incredible_. You should have been there!'

Eren shut his eyes, straining to keep out Armin's voice.

He felt out of it.

Did he really do all that?

The brunet rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath.

'Guys,' Eren spoke up.

But they weren't listening.

While Armin recounted the events at Utgard, Marco nodded thoughtfully.

'That sounds like him, alright,' the freckled PeaceCorp conceded before looking lost again. 'But wait… what's crouching tiger, hidden dragon? Am I missing something again?'

Eren dropped his arms and cast a dark look at his best friends.

'GUYS!' he said, a little louder this time.

The two turned to look at him as if noticing him for the first time. All an act, no doubt.

The saint broke into a grin and pointed to Eren as if he were regaling a hero. 'Oh, look... there's the kamikaze idiot himself. Eren, you gotta tell Marco about what happened in Utgard.'

The peacekeeper gave his friends a long glance. He clutched his elbows and shook his head, uttering a soft 'no' in answer to Armin's request. He knew what they were trying to do, and Eren appreciated their efforts to cheer him. But he didn't feel like conversing with anyone just yet. He swept a hand through his hair, bunching them roughly.

'Guys, can you just leave me alone?'

The door creaked open, and a shadow emerged.

'Why?' asked a new voice.

Eren groaned inwardly, recognising the voice.

The others turned to the door, and there he was. With the sleeves of his flannel shirt tied around his waist, Jean Kirstein looked every bit annoyed. For some incomprehensible reason, Jean had taken to attending Erwin's briefing in the basement. For someone who professed hating all Titans and the world of Titan, the ashbrown spent an awful lot of time in their company. Especially Isabel. Why, Eren couldn't say. It could be a sense of duty or perhaps, a stronger allegiance to the PeaceCorp brigade than Eren gave him credit for. The peacekeeper suspected there were other reasons too. Reasons that only Marco knew.

The ashbrown wiped the sweat off his brow and walked into the room, hovering before Eren's bunk. Hazel eyes surveyed Eren in silence.

'What?' the brunet demanded. 'What's with that look?'

Jean wasn't one to mince words.

'How long are you going to stay up here and sulk?'

The peacekeeper turned from Jean to the rest. But if he was hoping for support from those quarters, he didn't get any. Armin and Marco retreated to a corner, deciding to keep out of the argument that was about to ensue. Eren turned to meet the gaze of his childhood rival and held it firmly.

'I'm not _sulking_ ,' Eren told him, though he had a hard time believing it himself.

'Yeah?' the other challenged. 'Could have fooled me.'

At Eren's silence, Jean narrowed his gaze.

'You sure as hell ain't being helpful to anybody, sunshine. Not in this state,' he said.

Eren lifted his head to give Jean a sharp look. There was a strained silence, for the chatter behind them had winded down. Both Armin and Marco glanced their way nervously, each looking worried in their turn. Eren couldn't pry his eyes away from Jean's. The peacekeeper pulled the pillow from behind him and knocked it aside. He stared down his partner, green eyes narrowed in an angry haze. He didn't want a fight right now; he didn't have the time for it. But if Jean Kirstein wanted one _so_ bad… hell, Eren was feeling generous already.

'What did you just call me?’

The taller boy scoffed in amusement and pulled back a little. Jean slapped his forehead, feigning surprise.

'Oh, my bad, Jaeger. I'm not entitled to call you 'sunshine', am I? Did I overstep some line? Did I infringe... shit, what's the word... your _conjugal_ rights? Only your asshole husband gets to call you sappy nicknames? Is that it?'

Jean watched the boy go rigid. He could detect the resentment growing in Eren and barked out a sordid laugh, shaking his head. 'That's right. How could I forget our dear Captain?' he trailed, smiling bitterly at Eren. 'Still having feelings for that freak? AKA the same creep who keeps trying to kick you out. Grow a spine, Jaeger.'

Eren rolled off the edge of the bunk and got to his feet. He met Jean's hardened gaze with his own, staring menacingly back at the taller boy.

'What's your problem, Kirstein?'

Jean smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

'My problem,' said the ashbrown, flicking Eren’s forehead. '–is the fact that you've holed yourself up in here, wallowing in self-pity while your buddies have been worried sick about you. Did you ever notice?' Jean asked, pointing around at the room. 'Not just me, Armin or Marco. But even your dad and sister! But no, Jaegermeister doesn't care about us, does he? You’ve got no time for us. It’s the masked creep who is always on your mind.'

The anger melted away for a brief moment. Eren gave a fleeting look towards Armin and Marco, feeling guilt course through him. His shoulders went slack, and he took a step back.

'I'm not wallowing in self-pity,' he said in a low voice. 'I didn't ask for you to be worried. I didn't ask for... _any_ of this!'

Jean wasn't buying it.

'Can you hear yourself, man? It's all me, me, ME! It's always about you, isn't it?' Jean's hand darted out and grabbed him. He took a fistful of Eren's shirt, reeling the boy close.

'Eren. Get a grip. I hate to admit it, but our dear Captain is right,' whispered Jean, stressing on each word. 'Peel your eyes open, Eren. There is no effing choice here. We must finish this. So, for fuck's sake, pull yourself together,' Jean looked at the key exposed around Eren's neck, his features softening at the sight of it. 'Listen. Marco and I have seen what the State can do… If you want proof, there's a fatherless kid next door. Don't forget whose fault it is that Magnum died.'

Eren looked up at him sharply. Their friends turned listless at the mention of Magnum, and Marco tried to intervene, but Eren wouldn't let him. The cat was finally out of the bag, and it figured Jean would be the one to say it.

The peacekeeper regarded Jean.

'So, it's my fault, huh?'

Jean went oddly silent.

'Say it. Say it to my face,' Eren urged.

'Yes,' said Jean. He released his hold on Eren's shirt. 'It's your fault _and_ ours. If we stay here... we're putting everyone in danger. All of them! Captain Pokerface is right. Gates need to be closed, and we gotta leave. Pronto. Just deal with it.'

Deal with it?

Eren gave the taller boy a spiteful look. The peacekeeper turned to the door and swearing loudly, he decided to leave.

'Where do you think you are going?'

'None of your concern, horseface!'

'Let me guess,' Jean called after him. 'Going to chase after that guy? Want to do him one last time?'

Eren stopped in his tracks. The boy turned briefly to give Jean a look of utter contempt. Shaking his head at his partner, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him as he went.

Jean muttered an expletive and turned around to meet the others. He caught the look on their faces.

'What?' he asked petulantly, going on the defensive. 'What the hell did I do?'

Armin shook his head and pressed a hand over his eyes.

'Just opened your big, flapping mouth like always,' said the blond boy.

 

 

 

 

 

When Mikasa Ackerman walked into the basement carrying a food tray for her genius but otherwise absentminded father, she expected to find a roundtable conference in full swing: heads huddled together, muffled whispers and a raging debate. Instead, she found the meeting winding up. The sparse furniture in the room had been pushed against the walls, the leaders of the PeaceCorps and rebel fractions were filing out of the room. Her foster parent and Commander Erwin Smith stood in the middle of what looked like a haze of gridlines. Gold, ultraviolet and red filled the air. The colours were from about a dozen transparent displays, some running a marquee while others showed maps of places unknown, sights unseen. Startled and even a little daunted, the reporter set the food down on a bench and screened her eyes against the influx of data.

'The entire city?' she heard her father ask. 'Commander, do you realise the repercussions of such a move?'

The man in army colors was curt in his reply.

'Can you do it?' Erwin asked him. 'That is all I want to know.'

Grisha turned to the screens and reflected on his answer.

'Yes. I should be able to do it.'

Erwin seemed pleased with his reply. After a brief mention of 'Blackout' codes, emergency backups, the blue-eyed commander excused himself politely. Mikasa watched him leave the room before turning to her father. She walked into the middle of the haze and as she joined her foster parent, she began to understand what he was looking at.

Maps of Titan. Every bubble city interconnected by golden threads. The projection was alive and rippling, a beauty to behold.

Grisha clasped his hands together, steepling his fingers. Mikasa recognised the feverish look in his eyes. It didn’t bode well.

'What's going on?' Mikasa asked him. 'What's all this?' she said, pointing to the projections surrounding them.

'Gateway maps,’ Grisha answered. ‘Every gateway that Titan has built over the years mapped from source to destination. The interim connections as well. The work of the Grey Barons. Our blood and sweat right here. Commander wanted me to go over these. How does it look to you, Mikasa?'

She scanned them again in amazement and searched for the apt word to describe the screens.

'They're... beautiful.'

Grisha let out a sardonic scoff. 'Beautiful, hm? Ah, in a macabre way, yes, they are,' Grisha said as he stepped on a pod and shut down all the screens. The cloud of blue and gold disappeared like a cascading waterfall. The wizened man walked to the wall, pulled a chair and collapsed into it, looking exhausted. He was thinner than before and carried the scars from his trials in State custody. Utgard hadn’t been kind to Grisha despite his age.

Grisha Jaeger took off his glasses as Mikasa brought him his food.

'Will you be able to do it?' she asked him. ‘Closing the gateways?’

Grisha nodded as he took a loaf of bread and broke it into two. 'It's not whether I can do it, Mikasa. I have to!' he grew awfully quiet as he remembered the words of his son. 'Did you… Did you get a chance to talk to Eren?'

The reporter shook her head.

'I tried to. He's shut himself in. He…'

She looked at her father in pained silence. Grisha deduced the truth from her expression.

'…he hates me, doesn't he?'

 

 

 

 

 

 

The bazaar of Maria was crowded and teeming with hawkers just as he remembered it. But this time, there was no man with dreadlocks acting as his guide. Eren remembered Magnum pointing out all the sights of his hometown with a bubbly enthusiasm that was nearly addictive.

_People say that you shouldn't sweat the small stuff, but the small stuff is what life is all about. See that fatso over there, Eren? That's Boogleman. Used to hoard all the food grains until Captain came knocking on his door. And that radio tower over there? Yep, we built that. Gives us an aerial watch over the whole of Maria. Pretty neat, huh?_

Of course, Eren didn’t pay much attention to the view. Finding Levi was all that had been on his mind.

_Good Lord, Eren. This is Maria, and you have to be polite to the residents. Most folks here have gangs to back them up. Please don't go mouthing off or you'll find yourself in deep shit._

With his hands buried in his pockets, Eren watched a crowd of people gather around an electronics store. None of the onlookers seemed like prospective buyers; they were all just hobos looking for free entertainment (and booze). The crowd’s gaze was glued to the telescreens on sale, hooting and cheering as the images began showing the smoking fortress of Utgard. Eren craned for a look over their heads and caught sight of a woman speaking on camera. He recognised the reporter.

The pixie with flaxen hair.

Hitch.

'— State Prison has refused to release any names. But our inside sources reveal that some of the escapees are more high profile than what Utgard's PR is willing to admit.'

Eren didn't wait to hear more. He turned from the hooting crowd and walked away. He walked on, turning  corners that bent to nowhere, losing himself in the alleys and found himself walking into territory that seemed all too familiar. Soon, the peacekeeper arrived at the relic of an old pharmacy. The door was still broken in the middle, the windows still boarded up.

_'How old are you?'_

_'Hm, I’m sweet sixteen.'_

 

Eren knelt on the ground and picked something up.

The vase he had left for Jerome was intact, but the marigolds were long gone, possibly withered by time. Eren heard footfall and someone approaching him. When he turned, he found Isabel Magnolia standing at the mouth of the alley; her face drawn in concern and in her hands... was an urn.

 

 

 

 

 

'What're you doing out here all alone?' the redhead asked him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Despite the funeral, despite the tragedy of losing someone important to her, Isabel Magnolia held on to the ghost of her smile. 'Are you trying to get lost? So, _Captain_ will come look for you? Very sly, _guapo_.'

Eren didn't know what to say to her. Words were heavy enough, framing sentences seemed downright impossible in her presence. He couldn't bring himself to face her. Much less, talk to her.

Both he and Isabel had taken cover under the lintel of the pharmacy's window. They stood side by side, elbow to elbow, staring at the wall of the alley. They made an odd couple on hindsight. Eren dressed in his faded jeans and a plaid maroon shirt. While Izzie was in her mourner’s clothes: the sarong and tunic. At first, the redhead tried to read what the graffiti on the wall said. But after three lousy attempts at figuring out whether the vandals had spray painted 'Hell' or 'Hail', Isabel gave up.

'He won't,' Eren said to her when he managed to find his voice at long last.

Isabel turned to look at him quizzically.

'Huh?'

'If I get lost, he won't come for me,' Eren said, folding his arms and looking at some point in the distance. 'Not this time, Izzie. It’s over. He's moved on,' the boy whispered and leaned back against the window, hearing it creak in its frame.

Isabel watched him from the corner of her eyes, a wrinkle appearing in her forehead.

'That’s not true, _guapo_. You of all people know how the Captain is. He is very good at hiding how he feels.'

Eren smiled wistfully until he caught sight of the urn she held. His smile vanished just as quickly as it had come. Eren raised a ginger hand and pointed to the vessel.

'Is that...?'

Isabel noticed what he was pointing at. Turning solemn, she gave a nod, caressing the sides of the ceramic pot.

'That's him, alright,' she piped in good spirit, a cheeriness that didn’t suit the occasion and sounded forced. 'I was taking _amante_ home. You know how Magnum is. He hates being tied down in a box, and I know he wouldn't want to be far from Sol.'

Eren stared at the redhead, wondering if he ought to believe her.

'How is she? Sol?'

'Cheerful,' Isabel said with a subdued smile. Her eyes lost their sheen when she spoke of her infant child. 'I don't think Reina understands it yet. Might take years before I can explain it to her.'

Eren looked at the container and back at Isabel.

'Izzie.'

'Hm?'

The peacekeeper took a step back and turned to face her completely. Sinking to his knees, he bowed his head.

'It's okay if you hate me,’ the young man told her. ‘It's okay if you want to hit me, too' the peacekeeper said, pressing his eyes shut. 'I’m sorry. It's my fault… _all_ of it. I couldn't save Jerome, Magnum, anybody. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m truly sorry–'

The redhead wouldn't let him finish his apology. She reached for him, knocking on the back of his head and forced the boy to look up. She was smiling again though Eren could see her eyes hiding the barest hints of emotion.

'Hey now. Listen to me,' Isabel said as she grabbed the boy's shoulders and pulled him upright. 'It's not your fault, _guapo_. I don't blame you... and most importantly, neither does Captain. You hear me? It's _not_ your fault. Get that through your thick skull!'

Eren watched her, his throat going dry.

'But if it weren’t for me–'

She ran a hand through his messy brown hair, stood on her tiptoes and pressed her forehead against his. Just the way his mother would. 'No buts. I’m happy to have met you, Eren Jaeger. So was _amante_. Believe me, it's true.'

They stood like that, caught in their shoddy half embrace. Neither lovers nor friends… but in the end, it didn't matter.

'Izzie,' he called for her after a long-drawn silence.

'Mm?'

'May I ask you something?'

'As long as you don't ask how old I am, yes.'

Eren hesitated before wording his question.

'If you had one day left… with Magnum, just one goddam day, what would you do?'

Isabel grew painfully quiet. She pulled back and looked at the sky darkening above them. Maria’s night fast approached.

'I'd have held him and never let him go. Isn't that obvious?'

Eren understood what she meant. He gave a nod and thanked the innkeeper for her honesty.

Isabel watched as the young man stood upright, taking a step back. He pointed the way home, giving her a mock salute before heading out first. She watched as the young man turned a corner and left the alley, leaving Isabel with her urn of ashes.

Izzie caressed the sides of the urn and turned back to the sky. The sight of the pyre and the smoke trails were etched in her mind.

'Say, _papi_. How's the view?' she murmured, a lone tear rolling down her cheek. 'Wish you were here.'

 

 

 

 

 

 

There wasn't a dearth of visitors to the Vigilante's room in Chromium Shark. He wondered if it had something to do with the 'Welcome' mat before his door. When Levi heard someone knock for the seventh time that evening, he emerged out of his bath and forced himself to get the door, hoping it wasn't Hanji again. He half expected Hunter to be bringing news from Erwin. Or worse, another duel of words with Farlan on why teaming up with the PeaceCorp division was like opening a can of worms. To which, Levi, in his brusque manner had replied 'If life gives you lemons, we make lemonade, Church. If life gives a can of worms, we go trawling. Simple.'

In the end, the visitor wasn’t a member of his crew. Instead, there stood outside his room the last person he could have hoped to encounter.

Breathless, hunched over and lips parted open in mild surprise, as if the boy didn’t expect Levi to answer his knock. Carrying a backpack on one shoulder, the younger drew back and closed his mouth, settling into a silence, which ill-suited him.

Crammed into a hallway, which suddenly seemed unequal to the task of housing them and the words unsaid between them, they looked at each other, waiting, biding for the other to speak. Levi watched the younger, amused.

He finally broke the ice.

'Here to give me that lap dance you promised?'

Eren stared at him, dumbstruck.

'No,' he said with a frown. 'I never–Was that a joke?'

Levi leaned against the frame and folded his arms.

'It wasn't,' he admitted in a quieter voice. 'I’m dead serious when it comes to you. Haven't you realised that, Jaeger?'

 _Jaeger_ , Eren noted to himself. Biting his lower lip, he decided to plod on anyway.

'Can we talk?' he asked, looking between Levi and the room beyond, hoping to get invited in.

Levi didn’t grant him that simple request.

'Depends.'

'On what exactly?' Eren demanded.

'On what you have to say.'

The boy looked repulsed for a moment and a hand curled into a fist, trying to keep a lid on his temper.

'Since when do I need fucking _permission_ to talk to my own spouse?'

Levi gauged him in return, a smile threatening to surface.

'Fine,' the older man relented with a reluctant nod. 'I'll listen. But you can’t come in; do it here. What do you want to talk about?'

Eren swallowed hard and looked down the empty hallway. The peacekeeper shook his head and turned his attention to the bag. 'No, not to talk,' said Eren, drawing the zipper to his bag open. 'I’ve got something to give, actually.'

Levi watched him rummage through the backpack before Eren's long arm drew out a sweater. A wrinkled grey sweater that the boy brought forward and held it out. Levi didn’t take it, not until the boy urged him to.

‘Please, take it...' Eren paused, staring at the fabric. 'It's yours. Mom— she made it for you. She said it'd go with your eyes.'

Levi looked down at it, suddenly finding himself to be at a loss for words. He threaded a finger through the woolen material, looking over it in silence.

'I see,' he remarked in a voice void of emotion. 'Give her my thanks.'

It was clumsily awkward. Not the sweater, but the situation itself. He wasn't used to gifts, especially a gift from a woman he’d never met in person. A woman who was the cornerstone of Eren’s existence. Levi smoothened out the wrinkles, folded the sleeves and rolled it into a neat ball. When he turned back to the brunet, he found the young peacekeeper watching him ardently. He knew that expression of Eren's. It was the same face that the brat had when he talked of home. His home.

Nostalgia.

Longing.

'What is it now?' Levi prompted.

Eren was watching him carefully.

'How did you do it?'

Levi returned a questioning look.

'Do what?'

Eren inhaled deep, the boy's turquoise green eyes never straying from him. 'How did you get over us? Cos' I need to know, Levi,' the peacekeeper let out a bitter laugh. 'If you haven't noticed, I suck at letting you go.'

Levi tilted his head and glanced down the empty hallway.

'It's easy.'

'Is it?'

'Yes,' the older said softly. 'You just leave it to fate. Eliminate thinking; eliminate choice. Leave it to fate.'

'Fate?'

Levi nodded as he reached into his vest pocket and drew out a coin.

'Leave it to fate,' the older said as he placed the coin on the tip of his thumb.

The symbol of infinity caught a glint of the corridor light. Levi turned to the peacekeeper and motioned towards the coin.

'Make your call.'

Eren stared at him in disbelief.

'You've got to be kidding me…'

Levi looked long and hard at him, the smile having long disappeared from his lips.

'I'm not. Again, I’m dead serious when it comes to you,’ he held out the coin. ‘Head or Tails, Eren? What’s it going to be?'

The peacekeeper turned from the coin to Levi's face. Desperation set in, fear following in closely. To have his feelings reduced to a game of chance, no, he didn’t want to make this choice. Eren shook his head at the man.

'Levi... I swear to God, please don't do this.'

'Pick a side, soldier. Justice or infinity?'

Eren's gaze drifted between the coin and Levi’s set face, blinking rapidly. He pressed his eyes shut and nodded, giving in against his will.

'Fine, I choose heads.'

Levi regarded him for a moment and gave a nod in understanding. 'Alright. If it's heads, you can stay here by my side. If it's tails, you go home. No questions asked, trooper. Are we clear on the terms?'

Eren took in a deep breath.

_No questions asked._

‘F–Fine.'

The words had hardly left his mouth before Levi tossed the coin up high. There was the tiniest sound of metal ringing before Levi caught it mid-toss and held on to the treasure, his right hand wrapped around the coin.

Eren felt a dead silence pervade the inn’s hallway. The two men stared at one another before Levi held out his right hand. He unraveled his pale fingers and sure enough, there it was.

Infinity.

Eren smiled when he saw it.

'Tails…' he mumbled, looking crestfallen. ‘I should have known.’

'Fate's answer,' remarked Levi, withdrawing his hand and pocketing the denomination. 'Shitty as always, isn't it?'

Eren shook his head as he took a step back.

'You’re right, Captain. This _does_ help.'

Levi watched him shuffle backwards.

'It does?’

'Yeah. Because I just had a reckoning. I came here to find my goddam husband, you know. I thought I found that ass. But no, the one I found…' Eren paused bitterly, '– was a jerk who tosses a coin to decide if I'm worth it. To decide if _we_ are worth fighting for.'

Eren shook his head as he picked up his bag from the ground. His movements were sluggish, his handsome face devoid of emotion.

'You wanted me to go, right? Back to my world? I WILL, sir. I will follow yours orders, and it will be the last time I do. Titan prevails, Captain. Titan Prevails.'

* * *

 


	98. Blackout

 

 

 

 

Chapter-98- Blackout

~.~

 

 

Sitting before the porch of Chromium Shark was the largest airtrucker Armin had ever seen (possibly the only air trucker he was going to see in a lifetime). The thing made touchdown in the wee hours of the night, retracting its long wings and cozying itself into a metal cocoon. In the dark, the night before, the airtrucker gave the impression of a nesting pigeon, docile and no more threatening than the costume Connie wore for last Halloween. But in broad daylight, it looked heavy and sharp like a hunting bird. The rear latch was pulled down, and Armin could see Mikasa lugging a bag in. She was joined by Eren's father who took a seat inside, wrapped in blankets from head to toe. Armin couldn't help but notice how pale and stiff Mr. Jaeger looked. Like a fish out of water. Armin looked around, and there was the rest of the brigade— Jean and Marco helping Hunter unload crates from the dockyard to make more space for passengers.

At the very edge of the shaft, stood none other than the Vigilante.

The man was donning his second face again. Not to mention, that god-awful trench coat, his fedora, the cravat and those mean looking gloves. All of a sudden, this masked dude— the lord of the underworld— did not seem intimidating. Armin straightened his cagoule jacket, checked the straps of his backpack and moseyed up to the man. Armin peered at him.

'Do you mind if I ask you a question, Captain?' the boy asked in pure academic interest.

The man looked at him apprehensively.

'What's with the disguise?' Armin asked the Vigilante, eyeing the mask in suspicion. 'Everyone knows it's you in there. Me, Eren, the rest of the guys, even your government. So, what gives?' he sized him up again. 'What's the deal?'

The masked man did not reply. Instead, he raised a hand and tapped Armin's backpack.

'You all set, kid?' the man asked in return. He’d spoken in his own voice, Armin noticed. Not the Vigilante’s.

Armin frowned.

'You didn't really answer my question.'

The man grunted.

'Maybe it's because you ask too many questions, Squeaky.'

There it was. The return of annoying nicknames. The shorter boy huffed and hunched up his shoulders, trying to look taller than he was.

'My name is Armin Arlert, y'know,' he said, gazing haughtily at the inkblot mask. 'It wouldn't hurt to remember my name. It's not that long either.'

'Is that so?' the voice behind the mask trailed, his attention clearly elsewhere. The blotched face looked past Armin's shoulder. 'So, where's your friend?'

Armin turned miffed.

‘Which friend are we talking about?’

‘Troublemaker,’ came the single worded reply.

‘Oh, you’re referring to _Eren_?’

Before Armin could answer, the peacekeeper’s voice rang out from the door, announcing his presence tersely.

'I’m here.'

They turned… and there was the brunet emerging out of the inn. The peacekeeper was saying his goodbyes to Izzie and her baby. He exchanged words and a hug with the redhead and pressed a kiss on the infant’s forehead, a smile of melancholy lingering on his lips through his farewells. Before he left, he caught Sol’s tiny hand in his and gave it a warm shake. Nodding to Izzie, Eren turned towards the air trucker, all set to board.

Eren saw Armin and the figure next to him. He stopped, freezing at the sight of the masked man.

Armin didn't blame him. The vision of the Masked Dude could turn anyone queasy. But in Eren's case, Armin suspected it was more than that. Oh, so _much_ more than that. The blond swept a wary look between the two, wondering what the heck it was between them.

Despite being everyone’s saint, Armin did not comprehend feelings and emotions much. He felt Romeo and Juliet were a bunch of sissies; then, there was Titanic which made Sasha and Eren cry bucket loads of tears, while Armin still couldn't figure out why the unsinkable boat couldn't handle one measly little iceberg. He didn't cry over Nemo either like Connie would. So, nom he didn’t really understand the tension between his best friend and well… his extra-terrestrial husband. Nope, relationships were a mystery. Especially those as complicated as this one.

Armin looked between the two again and deeming them to be a lost cause, he sighed and turned away. He decided to move along, with Krobe tagging faithfully behind him.

And just like that, they were alone. The peacekeeper and the man with two faces. They stared at each other, none willing to break the ice between them. Eren stuffed his hands into his pockets. Keeping his head low, he averted his gaze to the floorboard under him and advanced up the ramp. He climbed the shaft, not pausing to look even once at the man standing at the threshold.

Then again, neither did Levi.

Venturing into the bridge space, Eren sat down, taking the spot beside Armin. The shorter boy watched him from the corner of his eyes.

'You okay?' Armin asked.

Eren nodded with a brittle smile.

'Yeah. I’m doing swell.'

His best friend didn't seem entirely convinced.

'You sure?'

'Never been better, Armin. Never been better.'

 

 

 

He had been better.

A long time ago. When they didn't carry the burden of the worlds; when it was just _them_ caught up in their own private kingdom. No Earth, no Titan. Just the two of them, sharing stolen moments in a frozen, ethereal time.

Five years ago, the elevator doors had jingled open, and someone stepped out. The man paused and looked around the helipad, giving the place a silent scrutiny. The peacekeeper— eighteen years and counting— who'd been sitting against the guardrail fencing, sat up in alarm. At Levi's appearance, Eren stuffed the last of his bagel into his mouth and dusted his hands, almost choking in his hurry. Grey eyes found him before Eren could so much as make himself presentable.

The guardian walked over to Eren's spot.

Levi reached for his pocket and drew out a note. A note which, in Eren's defense, didn't contain hastily scribbled directions to their rendezvous place. A note, which hadn't been slipped into Levi's jacket using stealth and cunning. A note which, of course, had absolutely nothing to do with Eren and his genius for infiltration.

The boy grinned like a Cheshire cat while Levi looked around the Old Helipad.

'So?' Eren prompted. 'Pretty neat, huh?'

Levi grimaced as he lifted a knee and showed Eren the sole of his shoe. A layer of dust coated the bottom of his shoe. 'Nothing neat about it, but...' the older said, scanning the place again. '… not bad,' he conceded with a threadbare smile. 'How did you find this place?'

'Uh,' Eren feigned ignorance. 'I... pulled a few strings.'

Levi turned to the teenager and noticed the plate of bagels sitting before him.

'Should I ask where the food came from?'

Eren's smug grin didn't leave him as he scooted to the side and patted the spot he'd just vacated.

'Again, sir! I pulled a few strings,' he answered with a wink. ‘A magician never reveals his secrets, duh.’

Levi gave a heavy sigh and sat down beside the boy. He made a grab for the plate, but Eren beat him to it. The trickster lifted it out of his reach, still grinning at him.

'Not so fast, Corporal. First, you gotta admit that I can come up with good ideas.'

The older sank back against the fence.

'Fine, trooper. You can come up with good ideas… _sometimes_. Now, hand over the food.'

Eren seemed far from satisfied.

'Nah, I'm going to milk this cow for what it’s worth. Say 'Eren, you are not a shitty brat, but the smartest kid I know.'

'The smartest?' Levi countered, raising an eyebrow.

'Just say it,' Eren demanded.

'Fine, blah, blah, you are the smartest kid I know.'

'Also, I am a keen learner.'

'A keen learner.'

‘I’m a genius.’

Levi scoffed but gave in.

‘— a genius.’

'A darn good soldier.'

'A darn good soldier.'

'And you love me.'

'I- what?'

Levi muttered an expletive and looked deadpan at the boy.

When a hand aimed to grab his collar, Eren returned a cheeky smile and ducked out of striking range. 'Okay, okay, don't glare at me. It was worth a shot,' Eren grumbled, disappointed that his plan had failed. But even if he'd lost, even if he couldn't trick the older man into saying it, the peacekeeper kept his promise. Eren handed over the plate to him. Eren watched as the senior picked out a bagel and took a bite, chewing on it grumpily.

The boy's features softened, and he managed a smile.

A nameless wind rustled through the helipad, unsettling the dust and relics of forgotten TJs. The elevator doors were open and waiting. Just the two of them in a frozen, ethereal time.

'For what it's worth,' trailed Eren, looking at the sky above them. Titan's sun was faint; the sky covered in the smog of a hibernating city. 'For what it's worth, sir... I love you.'

It was the guardian's turn to choke.

 

 

'Aren't you going to say goodbye to your namesake?' Isabel had asked Eren, as he held the infant one last time.

'My _what_?'

'Your namesake, _guapo_.'

Eren stared at her.

'Sol,' explained the redhead. '–is for the Sun. Captain named her after you, he didn't tell you?'

No. To be honest, he never did.

 

 

 

 

Over the years, Eren had come to understand how different people were. Physically, consciously, subconsciously. It was a lesson that went against all that he'd learnt in the training corps. As soldiers, Keith Shadis had taught them that the enemy on the battlefield was one and the same. All drones and verily, all drones were meant to be executed. Whether it was man or machine behind the full body armor was irrelevant and inconsequential.

Shoot to kill; defend to live.

Peace for the worlds.

That’s what being a Titan soldier meant.

And perhaps, Keith Shadis couldn't have been more wrong. People were not the same, and it showed especially on the battlefield. When everyone was under duress, using their own wits and methods to cope with survival, no two people ever acted the same. Like now. Jean cracked jokes that weren't half funny as usual while Marco stared into blank space. Armin was quiet and observant. And finally, there was Eren’s old man. His father was folded in a corner, his head drooping to his chest, glasses on the verge of falling.

Eren turned to the sights outside.

The view didn't come from a window. There were no windows in the airtrucker. The only means to sightseeing was through the glass slab in the flooring. Against the steady thrum of the engine, Eren remained seated at the edge of the horizontal window and had taken to watching the passing sights. Green, viscous lakes passed below them; sand-dunes trickled by, floating plantations and every other feature of Titan’s terra forma.

Mikasa joined him at the glass loft. She sat down across him, her movements nimble despite the turbulence of the airtrucker. She caught hold of the rail and steadied herself.

'How are you doing?' she asked, watching him in concern.

Eren scoffed, his stare unfocused.

'First, Izzie and now, you. I don't get it.'

'Get what?'

'Why everyone is worried about me. I’m just a loser, you know.'

The reporter didn’t take her eyes off him. She shook her head, her expression thoughtful.

'You are an idiot, Eren… but not a loser. There's a big difference between the two.'

'Gee, thanks,' the boy admitted with a roll of his eyes.  'You sure know how to help my self-esteem, Mikasa.'

Mikasa's lips showed the barest hint of a smile. A doting, warm smile reserved for him. She looked long at Eren before she began removing her red scarf. She held it out to Eren, urging him to take it.

The peacekeeper stared at the offering in surprise.

'What's… this?' he asked.

'I’m giving it to you,' she insisted. 'Think of it as a souvenir. Something to remember me by.'

Eren looked at the red scarf in surprise. 'You sure?' he asked.

The girl in the bomber jacket nodded in earnest.

With a small nod, Eren accepted it gingerly. He gave the scarf a tentative glance before wrapping it around his neck.

'So…' Eren said. 'How do I look?' he asked his adopted sister.

'Like a girl,' supplied Jean from the side-lines.

Eren let a chuckle escape him.

'Fuck you, Kirstein. The hell you know about fashion!' Eren griped at his partner.

It was the ice breaker that they had all needed. Because suddenly, everyone was laughing. Well, almost everyone. Mikasa was still watching him, a lingering fondness in her gaze.

'You won't forget us, Eren? You promise?'

The peacekeeper stopped smiling and shook his head, tapping a loose fist against his heart.

'I won't, I swear.'

He turned to look past her shoulder, turned to look at the man still sleeping in his seat. Grizzly, unkempt and the sliver of a father he used to be.

'Mikasa.'

The girl in the bomber jacket looked up at him, curious.

'It's a lot to ask. And it doesn't mean I've forgiven him for what he did, for what he was. But…' Eren took a deep breath in, making his resolve. 'But take care of dad for me.'

The reporter returned a slow smile and nodded.

 

 

 

'Would someone please explain to me why the plan is called 'Operation Blackout'? Armin asked aloud, as he placed Krobe on its feet. The droid gave a wiggle, before resting its snout on the boy's ankles.

'That's classified,' said Hunter, emerging from the cockpit.

'Like hell it is,' the blond protested. 'If I'm going to die, I'd like to know the stupid-ass plan that killed me.'

Much to his surprise, Marco agreed with him. The freckled chap turned to the Vigilante and after what seemed like a long internal debate, Marco spoke up.

'Sir,' he said in a voice that was polite and reverent. 'With due respect, Armin is right. This ship is bigger than a regular TJ. How are we going to sneak through border patrol?'

'No need to worry about that, Bott,' their Captain answered.

Marco wasn't convinced that easily. 'But they would spot us from miles, sir. In the aftermath of Utgard, Trost is bound to be on high alert. All cities must be.'

The Vigilante walked over to the glass panel and peered at the landscape below. Eren went rigid at the shadow that came up but didn't look at the man beside him.

'Wait for your instructions, cadet,' was all that the Captain would say.

Armin looked at Krobe who was growing more agitated by the second. The airtrucker was ascending heights, and Armin's stomach did a flip. He clamped one hand around his mouth and held on to Krobe tight, thankful for company in his extremely nauseated state. At the thought of Krobe, the blond looked up sharp at his co-passengers.

Fighting down the urge to throw up, he decided to pose the question.

'So... uh... who keeps the dog?'

For the first time since take-off, Armin saw Eren and the Captain look at each other.  

'I'll keep him,' Eren said quickly.

The Masked Vigilante grunted at that.

'You sure? You can't even take care of yourself.'

Armin watched his friend stiffen. Looking indignant, the boy opened his mouth, searching for an apt rebuttal.

'Oh yeah? Well, you…' he stammered, searching for a plausible reason. 'You... You can't even dance!'

There was a silence, and Armin was secretly glad that Eren never tried out for the school debate team. The masked man surprisingly didn’t contest this allegation and let the comment slide.

'Krobe is better off staying with me.'

'Bullshit,' snapped the peacekeeper. 'He's as much a part of my life as yours. Right, Krobe?'

Eren looked at the machine dog earnestly. If only the decision were that easy for its AI circuit. The droid whined as it looked between its two masters. Confused, the dog scuttled behind Armin's feet and hid into the alcove of the blond’s smelly socks. The short boy picked up the frightened dog and tried to calm it.

'Sshh, it's okay, boy. You can stay with me.'

 

 

 

 

Two hours passed, and Armin realised the beleaguering problem at hand.

How was he ever going to convince NASA about… about all _this_? He regretted that he wasn't taking home any souvenirs from the alien planet. He regretted that the only proof of his grand adventure was going to be his worn jacket and journal notes. And yes, Krobe. Most definitely, Krobe.

He clasped his arms around the droid tightly, as the airtrucker changed altitude.

Farlan Church, the man of many trades, was the one piloting the airtrucker. The rebel leader's voice broke through the soundboards, announcing that they would be approaching the city soon.

'Ten leagues to Trost. Sit tight, folks. It's going to be a rough descent.'

A nauseated Armin was thankful that the ordeal was going to be over soon. But others didn’t agree.

Especially Marco.

'Sir!' the freckled chap called out, sounding nervous. 'Aren't we going to try for camouflage? The Border Patrol will shoot us down on sight!'

The Vigilante was standing at the glass slab, his one gloved hand attached to the ceiling's rafters for support. He looked at Marco before turning to the view below them. No word left him.

'Five leagues,' announced Farlan. 'Levi,' the rebel leader called, 'Will the PeaceCorps keep their end of the bargain? If Erwin screws up—'

'Stick to the plan, Church,' the Vigilante said. 'Erwin will keep his word.'

Armin cleared his throat.

'Uh, speaking about the plan, would someone please explain to me why it's called 'Operation Blackout?'

'Take holds. We are at the perimeter,' Farlan's disembodied voice cut in.

Again, Armin didn't get an answer. A sense of dread and anticipation set in. Everyone were looking down the glass flooring, as the vessel breached the city's limits. The airtrucker flew unhindered. No one stopped them, border patrol or otherwise. They weren't greeted by the sound of sirens. Instead, they heard a loud explosion shatter the night sky. The sound rippled through the air until the skyscraper city fell under a shroud of pitch black. 

Everyone stared at the dead city sprawled below them. Towers stood like ghosts; TJs in the sky careened to a stop, looking suddenly abandoned and lost.

The Vigilante let out a chuckle in the silence that followed. When he spoke, his voice seemed to cut through the tension.

'There's your answer, Squeaky. _This_ is Operation Blackout.'

Eren and Mikasa stared at the city below them, mouths agape. The reporter turned to the man with the inkblot face.

'You powered down the entire city? How… How did you do that?' she asked him.

The masked man shrugged mildly.

'Simple. We shut down the lifeline of Titan.'

'Lifeline?' Armin repeated, his throat going dry. 'What's that?'

A voice emerged from a corner of the vessel. It was Eren's father who spoke this time.

'God of the networks, son,' Grisha Jaeger said. He pulled down his blanket, looking awake and alert. 'We took Gale.'

 

 

 

 

* * *

 


	99. Love

 

 

Chapter-99- Love

~.~

 

The Covenant of Maelson, Trost chapter of the clergy, met every fortnight to induct new members into their sect, to share a moment in honor of the gods, to recite hymns and prayers under a thick veil of incense while the choir sang verses from their little black books. This evening, the Covenant was gathered in a cathedral just outside Jeunesse district. Its grand chaplain, Pastor Nick silenced the choir with a dismissive wave of his hand. Donning the prestigious, black robes of his order, he strode up the podium to address the avid faces spread around him. There was a lull in speech as the crowd of disciples waited for his sermon. Pastor Nick, proud shepherd of the masses, paused for a small moment, relishing in their waiting faces, but he was loath to show it. No, as a servant of God, he ought to be humble. Benign. His robes rustled as he took to the podium and readied himself for the long sermon ahead. Nick's manner was grave and stoic, and when he spoke, his voice carried gloom and despair to every corner of the assembly.

'Brethren,' he began heavily, his fingers clutching the rosary around his neck and tweaking it. 'My dear brothers and sisters, I stand before you now, by grace of our saviors,' he stopped and turned a discerning eye over the crowd. 'Dark times are upon us, my kin. Troubled times for the body and soul. The Gods test us. Titania is displeased… oh _so_ displeased by our fall to temptation; Ness is in deep ire. The gods have turned a blind eye to our woe. We are stranded, dear brethren. Stranded!' he emphasized, heaving in contempt. 'The Titan Gods have deserted us, marooned us in this miasma of filth and pollution,' the reverend gave a solemn sigh before resuming his sermon. 'They love us no more. Why?' he asked the gathering, staring at one and all. 'WHY do they not love their own children?' he demanded, with his arms raised to the heavens.

None had the nerve to answer, and for a moment, Pastor Nick wondered if he'd tacked on the gloom-element too soon in the game. That was until he noticed someone raising their hand– a meek young man sporting a hideous blue Mohawk. Pastor Nick had seen his share of aberrant. He'd encountered drug addicts, mafia men and prostitutes over the course of his missions to serve the weak. But one look at this blue haired abomination, and Pastor Nick was sure that the Gods had sent this wayward soul to him… for a purpose. A glorious purpose.

'Yes, braveling. What is your answer?' Nick said, urging the wayward to speak up.

Seuss Doohan didn't have an answer to Pastor Nick's question. What he did have was a query of his own.

'Um,' the youngster trailed, giving a furtive look around the place. 'Dude–' he eyed the cult around him warily, trying not feel intimidated in the presence of Nick's dark robed followers. 'Bro, I don't think I’m supposed to be here. Isn't this A-534, 2nd Street? Cos' I'm supposed to be at A-534, 2nd Street.'

It wasn't often that the chaplain found himself addressed as 'dude' or 'bro', but Nick let it pass. The pastor watched the boy mutedly, his wrinkled face oddly expressionless and somber.

'You, my child, are where you are meant to be,' the pastor divined, eyes gleaming a little. 'The Gods have led you to our Sorority for a reason,' he looked at Seuss benevolently and his aged, sallow face broke into a smile. 'When do you think the Gods lead a man here, son?' he asked.

Doohan turned a little nervous, wondering why he was being put to a pop quiz.

'Uh, if they've... sinned?'

The reverend nodded, looking pleased with his answer.

'Sinned, oh yes. We are all sinners, son. Greed runs in our blood; sloth is humankind's second nature; vanity, lust and envy are household names... we have all sinned. But do you know the name of the unholiest sin? Sin that dare not speak its name...' There was a gasp all around. Nick looked pleased with the reaction of the masses, reveling in their collective horror. 'Oh yes, children, such a sin does exist. Better men than you have fallen prey to it,' Pastor Nick’s face took on an ugly pallor, and he broke into a fevered speech. 'Weak minded men. Corrupted, squandered souls of the Lord. Those that walk amongst us in oblivion, those drenched in all that is taboo. It’s a CURSE to even speak its name on thy holy lips!'

Members of the assembly began to look petrified. They stared at one another, until the young man with blue hair who hadn't quite realised that he'd gatecrashed a cult meeting, raised his hand again.

'Uh… excuse me, man-in-robes. I'd love to stick around, but... my buddy and I were supposed to be attend a fanmeet for Desperate Husbands here,' Seuss gave a spurious look around, grimacing at the sight of all the oldies. '– Correct me if I'm wrong, cos' this ain't no fanmeet.'

Pastor Nick’s eyes glazed over him, evidently still seeking an answer to his question.

'Son, do you know what I speak of?' he prompted. 'The sin that dare not speak its name? The curse of humanity since Pandora's box opened?'

Again, with the pop quiz.

Seuss gave the question some due thought, contemplating over the answer. He scratched his blue head before snapping his fingers. 'Oooh, I know what you're talking about, man-in-robes. Piracy! That's just wrong, you know.'

The pastor shook his head and sighed.

'No, child. That's not it.'

Disappointed, Seuss tried again.

'How about ratting out your friends? Traitors, doublecrossers and the like. I hear my bro Dante wasn't too fond of 'em either. Ninth hell and all...'

'No,' cut the reverend irritably. 'You seem to try us, so I shall reveal the answer. The sin that dare not speak its name is... homosexuality.'

A hush fell over the assembled.

Seuss stared, not quite taking the bait.

'You sure, priest?' he asked. 'Cos' my best peeps are homos, you know.'

There was a collective gasp all around him. Pastor Nick shriveled back and giving Seuss a look of contempt, the elder turned to his audience.

'Do not listen to him, brethren. Homosexuality is a vice. Girl on girl. Boy on boy. Orgies. Threesome. Promiscuity. ALL of it! Vile!' The pastor pressed his eyes shut and raised his arms, as if pleading to the heavens. 'The soul swoons to even think of it. Mercy, mercy, mercy,' he implored to the gods above and with another heavy sigh, he brought his arms down. Pressing the end of his scarf against his crocodile tears, Nick turned to the conclave. 'But never fear, children,’ he told them in his reedy voice. ‘The day of judgment is near. Oh, so near. We SHALL face the wrath of God. There shall be a flood to purify this land. Our land! The sinners will drown and only those that are pure of heart shall remain...'

Pastor Nick ended his harangue breathlessly.

The peace of the Covenant was shaken; even Seuss looked perturbed (He took judgement days every seriously).

'Yo. What happens if I’m not pure of heart?' asked the ex-convict, looking suddenly very anxious about his future.

Pastor Nick returned a grave smile.

'Then pray, my son. Pray to be delivered from sin. Pray that darkness—'

There was a sound like the crack of a whip and suddenly, the power lines went dry. Never in the history of their prayer meetings had the group faced a shutdown before... not until tonight. The entire communion was thrown into shadows. The gothic cathedral housing the conclave was suddenly drenched in darkness. Evening light trickled through the mosaic windows while the 100-odd members of Covenant of Maelson looked around in bewilderment. Like puppets who'd lost their string master.

There was fear; there was anger, and there was, of course, mass-hysteria.

'Brothers and sisters, stay calm!' cried one.

'What happened to the lights?' asked another.

'I can't see anything!'

'Uff, Martha, that was my foot, dear.'

'Call the council. How dare they prank a prayer meeting?' bellowed another member of the faith.

'Um... is anyone's comm.. working?'

‘Gale! GALE!’

Silence.

Seuss stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked at the glass ceiling.

'Folks…' he announced for the benefit of the crowd. 'Looks like judgement day came early,' he said with a knowing smile.

Seuss Doohan turned to the dark outline on the podium.

'So, what should we pray for now, Pastor?'

For someone who boasted of battling demons every waking tic, Pastor Nick stood confounded in the darkness.

'For m-mercy,' he managed to say. 'Pray for courage... pray for love.'

 

 

 

 

 

 

Historia Reiss liked shopping. She liked trying on cute outfits, liked knowing Ymir's opinion on said cute outfits. And by Gods, even if Ymir had to spend the rest of eternity learning to tell the difference between a pastoral and floral pattern, so be it. The two were taking the rapidex home, settled into a nice cozy spot on the subway train when it happened.

The petit court scribe had been appreciating Ymir's gift, a lovely rhinestone necklace that hung around her neck.

'I look like a princess,' she said, a giggle escaping her. 'It's so… so beautiful,' Historia chirped, beaming at Ymir.

The freckled woman stifled a snort. More like daylight robbery, the dusky woman thought to herself.

And that's when it all happened.

At first, there had been an explosion.

The first of a series.

If Ymir believed that she'd left her adventurous days back in Utgard, if she'd convinced herself into thinking her days of thrill and excitement were over, she couldn't have been more wrong. The lights of the subway tunnel flickered at first, emergency backup powering on instantly. For one short moment, there was relief and even a false sense of security. No biggie. A circuit fuse probably. An engineer must have screwed up somewhere. Trost Mayor was going to have a lot of explaining to do. But amateur reasoning went for a toss when they heard a second round of explosions. This time, they felt the tremors under their feet, the ripples of an almost earthquake. This time... even the backups proved futile. Every power and network line of Trost's subway system blinked out completely. The rapidex screeched to a halt, never reaching its destination.

Auto-locks malfunctioned, and the shuttle's doors slid open with a rattle, eliciting surprised squeaks from the crowd of commuters. But oddly enough, there was nowhere to go. They were stranded deep underground, lost in the labyrinth of Trost's subway network. Ymir reached for Christa (her nickname for the princess) and squeezed the girl's hand in comfort.

'W-What's... going on?' Historia whispered into the darkness, staring wide at the silhouettes moving around them. There were whimpers and panicked attempts at calling for help. Families huddled together; lovers tried comforting each other, children bawled into the night... while android passengers tried to assist their human companions, extending a mechanical arm out in aid. Historia Reiss didn't have a droid companion, but she did have Ymir. She allowed Ymir to draw her into a tight hug, her heart overwhelmed by a crushing sense of dread.

'Ymir... what's going on?' she asked again.

The dusky woman sighed into her golden hair.

'They must have hit the Grid.'

'The Grid?' repeated the girl, shock registering in her features. Ymir watched the shadows move across the princess's face.

'But WHY? Who… Who'd do something like that?'

'Don't know, don't really care,' answered Ymir.

'How can you NOT care in a situation like—'

There was a third explosion and the couple ducked in instinct, the court scribe beginning to whimper between Ymir's arms. Chuckling, Ymir held the girl's head protectively and tried to reassure her.

'Sshh. It's okay, princess. Whatever happens... I’m here.'

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Petra Ral took cover behind someone's dinghy car, as Oluo joined her in the safe spot. She glanced around the neighborhood one more time, a last check to see if there were still any idiots who'd defied evacuation orders. No one in the five league radius, thankfully. Petra drew her head back and settled down. The two soldiers cupped their hands over their ears and waited, while Petra glanced at her watch, counting down the seconds. 49, 48, 47. If only her PeaceCorp partner could keep his mouth shut as well. Despite having planted a bomb at a control tower, Oluo Bozado was all hearty talk. As if this were a picnic.

'I bet Gunther and Erd are having the time of their lives,' Oluo told her. 'What's their location? District two?'

Petra chose to ignore him.

35.

34.

33.

'This brings back old memories, eh?' Oluo pressed on, placing a hand over his chest. Whether it was over his oldtimer's heart or the pack of poker cards he carried with him, Petra couldn't quite tell. 'Reminds me of Belemoth riots in O8. You and me, Petra… hosing tear gas over those quacks. You remember? Of course, we used to be the ones keeping law and order back and then—'

He cursed when he bit his tongue.

20

19

18

'Oh snap, I bit my–'

Petra was still counting down the seconds.

9.

8.

7.

‘I’ll be darned. I think I’m bleeding.’

3.

2.

1.

Petra grabbed Oluo's head and forced him to duck. There was an ear-deafening explosion that rocked the ground. The two watched open-mouthed as a control tower of Gale crumbled to the ground from its dizzying heights. The stench of fire and smoke filled the air while the two put on their gas masks, surveying the debris around them.

Oluo peeked above the car, braving the hail of embers and splinters.

'I say, Petra…’ Oluo began to speak, a nervous edge in his tone. ‘We used to be the ones keeping law and order in this city but here we are… blowing things up! What has the world come to? Will we be taking down the government next?' Oluo grumbled and ruminated over the thought in silence. 'Never bite the hand that feeds you! That's what my mother taught me. Did I ever tell you about my mother?'

'Oluo, for the love of all that is _quiet_ and _peaceful_ , just shut up.'

He turned to the girl distraught, but Petra wasn't watching him. She stood mesmerized at the sight of the fallen tower.

'We did it,' she said. 'We really did it, Oluo.'

But Oluo Bozado's eyes remained fixed on the auburn beauty before him. He reached out and removed a scrap of tin foil from her hair, debris from the bomb they’d planted hours ago.

'Petra...' he called in a voice that she hadn't heard before.

She turned and found Oluo Bozado hesitating for the first time in his life.

'I'm not the Corporal, lassie. I can never be... but I love you.'

Her eyes widened a little as he got down on one knee.

'Will you marry me?'

Petra stared at him.

 _'What_?'

They heard sirens approaching and the buzz of wings, but Oluo remained on his knee, looking up at her expectantly.

'You're proposing?' she blurted out. 'By Ness, Oluo. You think _now_ is the best time for a proposal?'

Her somber-faced partner smiled.

'Better late than never.'

 

 

 

 

 

 

Erwin Smith kept true to his word. Trost Headquarters was deserted; the hallways of the military base which Eren remembered to be a beehive, a humdrum of activity and order were eerily empty. Every step was a walk down memory lane; every door held a memory shared with comrades, friends, his superiors and... someone else. Hanji was brisk in her manner as she led them forward, her steps loud in the silence of HQ. The doors of the control room were open, beckoning them inside.

When the visitors stepped in, there they were.

The State's pride, the jewel in the crown of Titan— the Gateways.

Three rows of grand arches stood in the hall, each a portal to his world. The double doors led to scores of places on Earth. From the far reaches of Hong Kong and Tokyo to icy cold Siberia, from the markets of Morocco to bellwether Greenland, from the plains of Mexico... to his home in the county of Sylvan.

The lights of the gateways were blinking, but only the one in the center was open, ready for business.

As if waiting for him... waiting to seal his fate.

Squad Leader Hanji Zoe escorted Grisha to the controls. Eren had often seen them manned by Titan's engineers. Today, there was none. Today, the PeaceCorp would run this show.

'Gale has been waiting for you, Mr Jaeger,' the bespectacled woman said to the old man, a smile gracing Hanji's lips.

Eren watched his father study the monitors. The Grey Baron gave a firm nod before rolling up his cuffs and settling down into a chair. The irony became evident now. How his father would be the one to do it. Seal his fate forever since he was now in possession of Eren's key. It hadn't been easy handing the key over in the airtrucker. Especially with the Vigilante watching over the exchange.

Eren touched the collar of his tee, groping for the key absentmindedly. Of course, it wasn't there. The weight he’d carried around his neck was gone. He felt his throat go dry as realization set in.

Two days had turned to minutes. That's all he had.

Minutes...

He cast a look around the room, at all the faces that he was never going to see.

How did one say goodbye?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Leagues away, in the bubble city of Ulkridge, a wired man in his late fifties found himself escorted out of Titan's Research Lab by a young woman. But this was no hooker. The deputy of Dot Pixis, ash faced Rico Brzenska restrained the last of the Grey Barons, as she held up the warrant for his house arrest. Reasons went undisclosed, but word around the establishment spoke of 'treason' and 'espionage'. Dr. Abel Hoffstead looked no surprised. His demeanor was calm and resigned as he was led out through the double doors. But before they could step out, before he could be dragged away to the bowels of bureaucracy, the regent of science paused at the exit to give one last glance towards his lifetime's work.

The gateways.

His gateways.

He smiled… and it seemed to him that his masterpieces were bidding him goodbye as well.

'What is it?' Rico asked beside him before she too noticed that the gateways seemed suddenly alive, with the lights around the arches blinking. Even though she had ensured that the premise of the Research Lab was on a virtual lockdown, there was something going on with the gateways. Perturbed, Rico turned to her soldiers and issued orders to investigate.

She turned to look at the scientist next, but the man remained nonplussed. Abel Hoffstead was still smiling.

'What's going on, Dr Hoffstead? Why are the portals–'

The wizened man merely laughed as he turned away. He stepped out of the Research Lab, resigning himself to whatever it was... that fate had in store for him.

'We have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night,' she heard him say.

Rico Brzenska frowned. Something was not right, and her attention flitted to the portals again. She raised her comm. to report her findings.

Dot Pixis, sitting in the pristine office of the Supreme Commander, received her transmission. The two men, the stalwarts of the Titan Army, had been playing a round of chess, when they found their game broken by a series of interruptions. First... a _visitor_ , next Rico's report and now, a wire from Trost.

The visitor stood in their presence, stoic and broad shouldered, the very picture of calm and suavity. He was oddly silent, and Dot Pixis eyed him warily.

The wire from Trost was more alarming. Apparently, it was the last message received before they lost contact with the city.

 

 

_Gale down._

_Blackout in Trost._

_HQ under possible siege._

_Emergency code elevated to Red._

 

Pixis stared at the message before turning his attention to the chessboard of Supreme Commander.

'Your move, Dot,' prompted Zachlay, though his eyes remained fixed on the visitor amidst them.

‘I must say you’ve put me in quite the pickle,’ noted Pixis.

The visitor walked over to them. Erwin Smith cast his blue eyes on the chessboard, scanning it and gleaming the moves in mere seconds. His was no ordinary mind, Dot remembered. A man with beginnings in the country, who had risen through the ranks like a child prodigy. No connections, no greed. No high dreams. But loyal to the people, loyal to a fault. Yes, those were exactly the sort of soldiers who ruined the grand scheme of things. The honest kind. Erwin Smith scratched his chin thoughtfully and hummed a small tune. Pixis watched as the PeaceCorp commander hunched over the board and moved Pixis's black bishop to Zachlay's white king.

'Checkmate, sir,' said Erwin, giving the leaders of the Titan Army a disarming smile.

There was a hard silence.

Zachlay grunted in distaste and abandoned the game.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hanji, Moblit and Dita Ness stood by his father's side, trying to decipher what the elder man was doing. It was futile, Eren knew. Because he now began to remember things about his dad, how his father tinkered away in the basement for days altogether, forgetting food and sleep until his mom came around to remind him. Grisha Jaeger had always loved his work, whether it was building or unbuilding them, and he worked like a man possessed. Squad Leader Hanji Zoe gave a low, appreciative whistle as she watched the influx of data on the monitors. 'You are synchronizing the gates using... _Gale_? That's impressive,' Hanji observed, her voice carrying a vein of excitement.

Moblit squinted at the monitors.

'Is that... Is that every gateway on the map, Dr Jaeger?'

His father didn't answer, Grisha's mind set on the task before him.

Despite the barrage of questions, Eren's father worked tenuously, without breaking a sweat. He ran through the encryption codes, breaching every State barrier in existence. He almost smiled in triumph when he was through to the last.

His father pulled back at long last, shoulders slackening.

'The work of Langdon, Jaeger and Hoffstead... ends here,' he announced, taking off his glasses.

Silence followed those words.

Eren watched his father get to his feet, standing tall and awkward. Grisha pinched the bridge of his nose and with a heavy sigh, pointed to the open archway at the center. The one gateway still open. 'I've linked all to a single gate. The one you see before us. All that remains—' he trailed off.

Eren saw his father glance in his direction.

The parent left the words unsaid, but Eren knew exactly _what_ he'd left unsaid.

Hanji Zoe turned to look at them, her enthusiasm fizzling out. As Erwin's second-in-command, she took the mantle of a leader reluctantly.

'He's right, boys. Time for you three to leave,' she said in a solemn voice.

Jean looked around at those assembled.

'Wait. Just _us_ three? What about the others?' the ashbrown asked. 'The other PeaceCorps from our world?'

Dita Ness smiled and dismissed Jean's concerns. 'They have been sent back, Kirstein,' the man with the bandana said. 'Discharge orders were issued a week ago by Commander Erwin. Of course, everybody didn't go... some elected to stay behind. And by our records, only you three remain.'

There was a long, hard silence... before someone spoke up.

'No, sir. Not three but... four.'

They turned to watch Marco as the tall youth walked up to his superiors.

Standing tall, Marco placed a fist over his heart.

'Marco Bott, PeaceCorp of 104th squadron requesting discharge,' he said to Hanji, standing in rapt attention. ‘I’d like to go to the other side.’

Hanji gauged him in surprise. Her lens glinted under the lights of the control room.

'Do you realise what you're asking for, soldier?'

Marco nodded, undeterred from his stance.

'Yes, ma'am. I do.'

Hanji wasn't the type to be easily persuaded.

'Have you thought this through, cadet? What of your family? You'll never see them again,' she said, point blank. 'Are you prepared to leave them all behind?'

Marco hesitated and closing his eyes, he returned a firm nod.

'Yes, ma'am. I've informed my aunt, and she would be taking care of my effects. As for my family, they would be heartbroken, but I'm sure they'd understand why I’m doing this.'

Hanji shook her head.

'I'm afraid, you still don't understand the implications of your decision, Bott. It's not _your_ world, cadet. There are risks of discovery, risks of a life you're not used to, risks that you'll have to bear alone!'

Dita cleared his throat and intervened.

'If I may speak, squad leader, Marco is _exceptionally_ well-informed about Earth. He knows their history, their culture... I daresay more than myself,' he said, smiling warmly at his freckled former student.

'And us,' Jean piped in from behind. 'Hell, he knows more about my world than me... and that's saying something.'

Marco grinned at the ashbrown, nodding in gratitude to his friend.

Hanji turned from her comrades to Marco, and realizing that popular opinion was against her, she gave in.

'Alright, Marco Bott,’ she said with a resigned sigh. ‘As of today, you're discharged from your duties,' she saluted once and turned to the rest, her eyes lingering especially on Eren. 'That goes for all of you. Thank you for your service, PeaceCorps. Thank you for your time; you’ve made us proud.'

Eren watched as Marco joined Jean and Armin at the portal's entrance. They turned to look at Eren, waiting for him.

The peacekeeper (or was it the _former_ peacekeeper now?) looked around the room, at the circle of familiar faces. There was his adopted sister smiling at him, Eren acknowledged her with a nod, still thankful for her souvenir. His Titan seniors— Hanji, Moblit, Dita Ness beamed at him with pride. His father was watching him in a mix of sorrow and regret, eyes dull, features sagging, and the universal gate key clutched between his fingers. Hunter waved in farewell while the leader of the rebels, Farlan stood slunk away in a corner, his arms folded, his head tipped back to study the ceiling, and... then lastly, there was the one invisible face avoiding him.

Eren could feel the moment slipping away from him.

He'd said goodbyes before. But not the forever kind.

How did one say goodbye for forever?

Eren wished he knew the answer.

Handing over his bag to Armin, the brunet turned to the circle around him. _Eliminate choice, eliminate thinking,_ someone once told him. He could do it, right? Of course, he could. The peacekeeper made up his mind and steeled his resolve. He sought out Farlan and strode over to the rebel leader, looking earnest as he did.

Of all the people to choose from, Farlan Church was startled by Eren's choice and was even more surprised when Eren addressed him. The younger took Farlan’s hand and shook it warmly. The youngster from a world far away, in his jeans, faded tee and red scarf, smiled at Beelzebub with a brightness worth a thousand suns.

'I—’ Eren began, wondering where he should even start from. He dropped his shoulders and met Farlan’s gaze steadfast. ‘— I wanted to thank you for all that you did,' the boy said. 'For letting me stay. For helping me find him.' Eren bowed his head in gratitude. He seemed to remember something more and let out a chuckle, his voice staying deceptively cheery. 'Hell, you even signed on the dotted line for us. You were our witness! Now that I think about it, you were _always_ there, weren't you? You, Izzie, Hunter...' the young man went still as he remembered the last of their comrades. His breath hitched, and he allowed a quiet nod here before resuming, '...and Magnum. Yeah,’ he trailed solemnly. ‘You guys are certainly the coolest people I know.’

He fell silent.

However, he wasn't done.

No, far from it.

Eren drew back his head, knowing that time was ticking away. He nodded.

'I'm glad to have met you all. Thanks for teaching me about your world, your ways and...' Eren went quiet and then glanced at the masked man, '... about him _,'_   the boy finished softly.

Levi didn’t glance his way. Not even once. Which was alright with him. Eren could deal with being ignored, could deal with this distance. As long as Levi was still in sight. The peacekeeper let out a brittle smile, finding it difficult to continue. He lifted a hand to his face and wiped at a stray tear, trying to keep the dam from breaking.

'Yeah...' he admitted. 'Thanks for putting up with me. I know I've brought my share of trouble,' the rebel leader smiled at this. 'But if it's not too much, I've got one last favor to ask of you.'

Farlan Church stared at the young man in quiet amazement before nodding faintly.

Eren was quiet for a moment as he weighed the words in his mind.

'Take care of him please,' he finally said, flicking his head at the masked man in their company. 'He can be a prick sometimes; he can be cruel too; you might even think that he doesn't care about people, but that's not true. It’s all a front. He _does_ care. So, please don't give up on him. Seriously, don't _ever_ give up on him. He needs looking after. Cos'...' Eren's lips began to quiver, eyes prickling with tears, and words began to fail him at this juncture. 'Cos' even heroes get sick, you know. And if he gets sick...,' Eren lost his train of thought as he looked at Levi. 'I won't be around to make sure he's okay,' he finished with a broken smile.

Eren looked at the Masked Vigilante, who remained where he was, studying the arches in silence.

Despite the cold shoulder, the brunet persevered to finish what he had meant to say. Even if words were difficult, even if he had to wrench them out one by one, he was determined to finish it.

'Please be his family,' he resumed, ocean green eyes still fixed on the masked man. 'And if you can, please tell him that I love him. And no matter what he says, he'll always be my hero. _Always_. And yeah. Thanks for everything.'

The inkblot face finally glimpsed his way.

Eren’s smile was bleak, and shaking Farlan’s hand firmly, he forced himself to turn away, to turn from what had been his home, the only home he’d ever known in his life. With steps that weighed like lead, he walked over to where his friends were. He climbed the banister, climbed those last heavy-footed steps to the mouth of the portal.

_This is it._

_You can do this._

_Just don't turn around._

_Don't..._

'I don't get a goodbye?' asked a voice.

The peacekeeper froze. He looked over his shoulder only to watch Levi peel off the second face. And the mask came undone just like that.

Eren watched him gingerly and saw a gloved hand pull back to pitch something towards him. It was an easy throw and an easier catch for Eren. The young man caught it one-handed, feeling the smooth edges of a coin lodged inside his fist. But he didn't look at it. Instead, Eren Jaeger opted to set his sights on the man. The man who'd been his mentor, his guardian and without a doubt, the love of his life. And Eren drank in the sight to last him a lifetime.

For there he was. Hero extraordinaire, his disciplinarian, the shark to his bait, his... husband. Levi's hair was disheveled; grey eyes carried the weight of insomnia under them. But what struck Eren the most was the almost invisible wet trail along a cheek. Maybe, just _maybe..._ tears weren't Eren's nemesis alone.

The room fell silent. And for a moment, they forgot that they weren't alone.

'You're leaving,' the older man said, stating more than asking.

Eren brought a shaky hand to his forehead. He could feel his nose running, his eyes welling up with tears again. A mess of tears and snot. What a way to go.

'Yeah...' he said, sniffling. Eren looked at Levi and managed a weak smile. 'I’m following your orders, Captain. I’m leaving and never coming back, sir... Just like you said.'

Levi watched the boy for a long moment.

'You say that, but you always come back, sunshine.'

Eren stared at those vivid grey eyes, the arch of the nose he'd often kissed goodnight to, the smooth jet-black hair he'd held between his fingers, trying his best to memorize every detail. Eren shook his head and turned, forcing himself to look away.

'Not this time,' was all he said.

His friends readied themselves to leave. Jean Kirstein looked around at all of them and with one last salute, the ashbrown stepped into the vortex, paving the way for Marco and Armin. Eren's best friend returned the brunet’s bag to him but held on to Krobe. The droid turned its metal head to the gathering, caught sight of its old master and in a sudden wave of panic, tried to wiggle free of the blond.

Perhaps Krobe changed its mind too.

Perhaps Krobe finally realised the gravity of its choice.

But Armin wouldn't let it escape.

Eren watched as his best friend leaped into the void. The dark of the interstellar tunnel swallowed Armin whole, leaving Eren all alone, tethered to his spot. The brunet inhaled deep, blinked out the tears and prepared himself to enter the void.

But before he could leave, a voice called for him. A voice that had carried him for years calling just his name.

'Eren.'

The peacekeeper turned to the man donning the trench coat and waited.

Odd enough, Levi was smiling at him.

Eren watched the older man open his mouth and utter three words.

Words that were a long time coming.

'I love you.'

Trust Levi to say it after eight years.

Trust Levi to say it _now_.

Eren gave the man a glassy stare, eyes widening a little. He felt overwhelmed, even numbed and found himself at a loss for words. The boy didn't acknowledge the confession, didn't know whether he should even say anything. He wished he hadn’t heard those words that had eluded him for so long. Before his spirit could break, Eren Jaeger forced himself to turn and entered the portal for the journey back. A journey away from home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 


	100. One Door to a Blue Green World

 

 

 

 

Chapter-100-One Door to a Blue Green World

~.~

 

_I have heard the key_

_Turn in the door once and turn once only_

_We think of the key, each in his prison_

_Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison_

The Waste Land, T.S. Eliot

 

 

 

Silence stretched as far as the tunnel. A mile to cover and a universe to cross. It was hard to feel brave, to feel anything but jittery. Especially in the sordid darkness of the interstellar tunnel. They walked in a file, their footfall echoing down the hollow pathway. Silhouettes rose to meet them, silhouettes tailed behind them, their own shadows taking the best of them. Armin was a bag of nerves. He was a brave young man, but he wasn't used to any of it. The dark shapes, the helium like space, the claustrophobic tunnel or... the gleaming beetle lights at the end of the passage. Nor was he a soldier like the others, who could keep a lid on their fear, who could embark on this journey unafraid. Armin Arlert was just a college student, albeit a genius one, and so he cleared his throat loudly.

'Guys-um-You ever heard that song by Feist?'

There was no answer from the others. With their hands stuffed into their pockets, Jean and Marco took tepid steps forward, leading the way for all. Armin gulped and quickened his pace to keep up. The last thing he needed was to be left behind in this miasma of gloom and despair.

'Well, it goes something like this.' And before anyone could stop him, Armin began humming a song under his breath. A song of cheery spirits, which came out warbled from all the tension built up inside him.

'O-One, two, three, four. Tell me that you love me more.'

Jean sighed.

'Armin,' he reproached.

'Sleepless long nights... that was what my youth was for.'

'Armin, if you don't shut up, I swear—'

Paying no heed to threats, the blond changed tunes, now singing the rhyme of Four Little Stars.

'Four little stars winking at me. One shot off and there were three.'

'Jesus Christ, Armin, this isn't summer camp!'

'Three little stars with nothing to do—'

Jean stopped and glared over Marco's shoulder. A glare which went ninety nine percent unseen in the shadowy realm of the interstellar tunnel. 'Armin, shut the hell up! Stop spazzing out, will you?'

'I’m not spazzing out,' Armin's indignant voice floated back to him. 'What's wrong with singing?'

Jean huffed under his breath. 'Well, for one, you suck at it, shortie. And two, I don't want a running commentary right now. So, can it!'

Armin looked revolted.

'Uh huh. So, what would your holy highness like? A Beyoncé number? Or should I sing Rihanna?'

The taller boy rolled his eyes at the suggestion and facing forward again, he resumed the walk to the other side.

'How about 'silence'? Know that one?'

Armin grew quiet for a short moment as if he were actually considering the suggestion. He cast a harrowing glance behind him. 'But I can't do silence,' the saint confided, looking around the tunnel again, 'No, not in here,' he said, giving a visible shudder at the creepiness around him.

Jean glanced over his shoulder at Armin again, eyebrows arched in concern. Jean didn't say anything at first, because he understood what it must be like. Trekking space in a tiny chute had not been easy for him the first time around either, and he decided to cut Armin some slack.

'Look,' he said with a sigh. 'Let's just concentrate on getting out.'

For a moment, the blond seemed to agree. But then, doubts crept in.

'You know, Eren doesn't have the key anymore. What if the gates on the other side don't open?'

Jean stilled, having not considered such a possibility.

Armin wasn't done with his hypothesis.

'And what if we are stuck in here? Like _FOREVER?'_

'Armin.'

'No food, no light, nothing. We'd have to live like savages. Like Tom Hanks in Cast Away.'

'Christ, Armin.'

'If it comes to worst, we might have to eat each other too,' Armin gave another violent shudder. 'Jean, you remember Professor Sandel's class on Justice 101. The Queen versus Dudley and Stevens. I don't want to be the cabin boy that gets eaten.'

Marco, who'd been hitherto quiet and pensive, laughed at that.

Armin prattled on.

'If I've to go Hannibal Lecter, I'm calling dibs on you, Kirstein.'

Jean growled out loud.

'Okay, THAT'S IT!' he snapped, stopping abruptly in his tracks. 'Enough with the doomsday talk. No one's getting eaten. And no one's getting stuck in here forever. You are going to either shut up or you're walking in front of us, shortie.'

Armin shut up promptly, since the idea of leading the troupe didn't appeal to him all that much. It was the saint's honest belief that leaders always died first. Such was the curse of being first in the line of duty. The silence didn't last long before Jean and Marco heard the boy yelp.

'Ouch.'

'I thought I said NO TALKING,'  Jean admonished him.

'It wasn't me! I didn't do anything this time. Krobe's the one who bit me!'

Jean snorted into the darkness.

'It's your own fault. You just had to bring the mutt along, didn't you?'

'I didn't bring him for me. I'm taking him back for...'

Armin didn't finish the thought, but they all knew who he was talking about. There was a pensive silence, and the boys turned to glance behind them.

A silhouette was walking behind them, his hand feeling for the walls of the tunnel. One labored step at a time. Eren hadn't spoken a word ever since they left Titan, ever since the gates closed behind them. He was keeping his distance from the rest, keeping himself shrouded in the darkness as if it were second home. They couldn't see his face, but something told Jean that Eren would have wanted it that way.

With a heavy sigh, the defacto leader turned, spurred the others to keep moving and headed for the gates at the other end.

As it turned out, Armin's doubts were unfounded. There was no need for the key. When they reached the glimmering lights of the arch, the double doors drifted open to greet them.

The boys exchanged a glance before stepping forward and taking the plunge.

Light blinded them. They found themselves in a clearing of woods. The smell of foliage and wet leaves hit them first, like the scent of earth after the first rains. They were standing in the ring of a broken fountain, a marble nymph sitting on a pedestal. Sound of kids in the park floated to their ears, sound of creaking see-saws, the chatter of parents and single mothers exchanging gossip and barbecue recipes. The sky wasn't clear but showed a cloudy afternoon. And as they emerged out of the portal, Jean was thankful for the woods that separated them from what was possibly a children's park. Eren was the last to emerge, his face expressionless, features silent and catatonic.  

The boys stepped back, watching the vortex warily.

'What happens now?' Armin voiced out loud, looking anxious.

The answer arrived in the form of a rumble. A deep rumble. They felt the change in air, in currents unseen, in dark matter energies. The arch shuddered as the void began to shrink. And while all these years, Jean had seen the gateway turn invisible, today it was different. The void began to consume the frame around it, eating away chunks of the gateway. Like Armin's Hannibal Lecter would on a feast.

'Get back!' Marco warned.

They felt the pull of the gateway, the forces of vacuum, space and heat merging at the center. The boys shuffled back, watching in amazement as the arch disintegrated. Piece by piece, rubble by rubble until all debris was sucked in by the blackhole in the middle. Until it vanished too.

Soon, there was nothing to be salvaged.

Nothing to prove that a gateway to another world had existed.

The broken fountain stood silent amidst the tall trees. The nymph was still playing her harp.

There was a silence as the young men looked at one another. Before anyone could say so much as a word, Eren pulled the strap of his bag over his shoulder, turned and walked away briskly.

'Eren,' Jean called after him. 'Eren, hold up! Where do you think you're going?'

The brunet didn't stop to answer.

Armin looked down at the Rottweiler puppy in the fold of his arms... and gave the little one a comforting pat on its metal head. 'Leave him alone, Jean,' Armin said. 'I know where he's going.'

At Jean's questioning glance, the blond returned a nod.

'The hospital,' Armin replied. 'I don't know what happened, but it's got something to do with his mom. I think Mrs Jaeger... is in a bad shape.'

How bad, Jean wanted to pry... but then, the ashbrown remembered about the prank he'd pulled on Eren and what Hoover had said about Eren's mother. About her being in the loony bin. Was that the reason why Eren was so protective of her?

He turned back to the fading figure of Eren. The brunet reached the parking lot and turned the bend, disappearing in the rush of the evening hour. Shaking his head, Jean looked to his friends, glancing from Armin to Marco. At the sight of Marco, Jean was amused. The taller boy was looking around in a daze, Marco's eyebrows drawn in a crease as he marveled at the sights.

Jean grinned.

'Oh yeah,' he said and made a mock bow. 'Welcome to Earth, alien.'

The freckled Titan returned a smile, and the smile lingered as Jean began leading them out of the park. 'You know,' Jean trailed as they slipped out of the heavy metal wrought gates. 'We don't have your flying UFOs or llamas here... but I'm glad to be home. I don't know about you guys... but I'm looking forward to NOT finding my face plastered on the news. That's gonna be a relief.'

'Um, Jean?' said Armin, grabbing his sleeve and tugging at it.

'I mean, sure it's cool to be chased by the State and all... but I'm the type that likes chasing bad guys and not the other way. So not my style.'

Armin tugged his sleeve again.

'Uh, jerkface, are you listening?'

But Jean was on a roll.

'And you know what else I'm _not_ gonna miss?'

Armin gave his arm a violent shake.

'What?' Jean snapped, looking annoyed at the shorter boy.

Armin pointed to a flyer stuck on a post.

'I think you need to check this out.'

Jean shoved past the saint’s shoulder for a better look.

And there it was. Right below a poster of a missing Pomeranian... a flyer that screamed in bold letters:

_HAVE YOU SEEN MY SON?_

Below the caption was a picture of a younger Jean Kirstein in all his half-naked glory. Square shoulders, cowboy hat and a million-dollar smile to boot. Taken from a high school beach party, if Jean recollected correctly. Oh, he remembered that party. Skinny dipping in the moonlight, yep, that was him, alright, and it was all kinds of wrong. For one, his mother had picked out the worst possible selfie in the entire history of selfies. Second, the old hag described him as a 'sweet, gentle soul' and promised a thousand bucks for anyone having information on his whereabouts. And third, why the hell was he being treated along the lines of a lost pup?

'What the hell!,' he muttered, ripping the poster out and glowering at it. 'I can't believe the old hag did this!'

Armin patted his shoulder, lending his sympathies.

'Well, look on the bright side,' ventured the boy in the cagoule jacket, trying to keep himself from snickering. 'You're hella popular now. Plus, you’re cheap.'

Jean groaned, when he caught sight of even Marco smiling.

Armin looked at the poster again and eyed it with interest.

'So, if we return your sweet, gentle soul to your mom, can I call dibs on the bounty? I could do with a thousand bucks—'

'Armin.'

'Yeah?'

'So not helping right now.'

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When it came down to locating her only son, Mrs Kirstein didn't leave a single stone unturned and had gone all out. Flyers bearing Jean's face were stuck on every lamp post and every billboard in town (along with Fluffy the missing pooch's). Muttering under his breath about how he was not an effin' child lost at a carnival, the ashbrown ripped them off each pillar and post, as he led Marco back to his house in the Sylvan suburbs. He was dimly aware of the freckled man stopping and admiring every odd object that surfaced along the way. Sometimes, it was a thrush in the grass. Sometimes, an overturned tricycle caught his eye. Even a crowded burger stand looked otherworldly to the Titan.

'Marco, I'd love to show you around,' Jean huffed, dragging the Titan away. 'But seriously, I need to get home FIRST before my mom decides to call FBI on my ass—'

And when they did arrive at his rather larger-than-life home (all thanks to his dad dying in service and to the sweet tooth of his mom’s clients), he didn't even need to ring the doorbell. Jean and Marco heard footsteps racing down the stairs, and the door lurched open, rattling on its hinges.

His mother stood breathless behind the door (mascara running, hair with rolls, heavy bags under her eyes). Dressed like she hadn't left the bed in days, the woman looked at him agape. She was shorter than Jean, but that didn't stop her from being an intimidating figure. Hell, any woman who could keep his army dad in line deserved a medal of honor.

Jean held up the flyer and pointed to it.

'What the hell is this?' he demanded. 'Seriously, how _ridiculous_ can you get?'

Mrs Kirstein pressed a hand to her chest, as if trying to calm her heart. She cast the heavens a grateful look and then turned to Jean, eyes narrowed furiously. She folded her arms, peering at him up and down.

'Then, explain to me where in the world have you been? Were you kidnapped by militants?' she asked.

'Huh?'

'Did you get caught in a drug ring?'

Jean gave his mother a look of complete exasperation and pulled a long face. 'Okay, seriously. What's wrong with you? I'm clean,' he scowled. 'I’m not a junkie. Where did you even get that idea from?'

His mother’s questioning didn’t cease.

'Did you knock up a girl and elope with her to Vegas because her daddy wanted you to set things right?'

And here, he lost it.

 _'What_?' he asked her indignantly.

'Answer the question, Jean!'

This time, his forehead creased into a furrow. Jean glanced up and cast a look of disbelief at the sky. But if he was praying to his dad or the gods, Marco couldn't quite tell. The boy turned back to his mother and scoffed. 'Yeah, I totally eloped with this imaginary girl of yours. If this was the eighteenth century, I'm sure I'd have done something like that. And speaking of babies, I did deliver a runt, but it wasn't mine, okay?'

It was his mother's turn to look flummoxed.

'What... What did you just say?'

Groaning, Jean shuffled past her.

'Nevermind. I'm starving. There better be something to eat. And none of your diet pasties shit. If I see another granola bar, I’m gonna move out.'

Jean’s mother threw her hands up in the air and stared after him.

'But WHERE have you been, mister? Explain yourself.'

When no answers ensued, his mother turned to the freckled young man who'd been watching this exchange in nothing short of amusement.

Marco blinked back at her, trying not to smile.

Jean's mother sized him up. And Marco began to understand who Jean had inherited his hazel eyes from. Or his volatile temper.

'And who are you?' the woman asked him.

Marco tilted his head, musing over the question.

'Um...' he trailed, not sure how to answer it.

Jean stomped back out of the kitchen, carrying something in his hand.

A milk carton with another hideous picture of his.

'His name is Marco, and he's your new son. Why? Because I sure as hell QUIT. You put me on a MILK CARTON? Jesus _fucking_ Christ, what's wrong with you, woman?'

Elsewhere, after assuring Krobe, that the visit wouldn't take long and placing the robodog in the confines of his backpack, Armin Arlert decided to pop by his ailing grandfather's place to assure the old soul of his well-being. To his dismay, Armin found the front door unlocked and a flurry of loud voices from inside. Did he worry the poor old man so much that the elderly had to call in for reinforcements?

The Sheriff?

Homeland Security?

FBI?

Slipping off his shoes, Armin darted into the home and launched into explanations.

'Gramps, I'm home and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry. It's all Jean's fault, I swear I didn't know I'd be gone for an entire month,' he stopped in his tracks for there in the living room was his grandfather, alright. But he wasn't in the company of law enforcement. He was instead playing bingo with his pals from the shelter home.

The old man looked up from under his straw hat, and it took him a long moment to recognize his grandson.

'Armin? Ah, that you, boy?'

Armin deflated a little into himself, shoulders sagging.

'You're playing BINGO?' he asked in disbelief. 'I was gone for a whole month! Got kidnapped by bounty hunters, got almost sold into slavery, helped Eren and his creepy husband break out of prison and you… you're here playing BINGO? I don't _believe_ it!'

His grandfather pulled out the pipe from his lips and gave his old chaps a questioning glance. He turned back to Armin.

'You were gone, Armin? When?'

'Never mind!' the blond sighed and stormed out of the ancestor's home.

'C'mon boy,' he said to the droid dog inside his backpack. 'Let's go back to school. At least I've got you,' he trailed wistfully, giving the metal dog a squeeze. Armin stopped on his porch, looking at a distant house at the end of the street. The abandoned home of the Jaegers, he remembered.

'I wonder how Eren's doing,' he muttered into the silence.

 

 

 

 

 

The young man in question didn't have to go far. Because, unlike the rest, Eren Jaeger didn't have to worry about an overprotective parent nor did he have a cheerfully absentminded grandfather. No, he had none of those.

As he stood outside the glass chambers of the care unit at Stanley Memorial, Eren realised what he did have.

A mother strapped to contraptions and machines, barely alive. She wasn’t even aware of her son’s return.

While Nurse Robbins stood beside him, reading his mother's chart and state, Eren could only guess what she was thinking. What sort of a wretched son abandons his own parent?

The brunet placed a hand on the glass and bowed his head in defeat. He pressed his eyes shut, a brittle smile flitting across his lips.

He might have saved the worlds.

He might have held his end of the bargain.

But odd enough, when it came to the people he treasured... Eren Jaeger knew he'd lost.

 

 

 

 

 

Armin didn't see his best friend for a week. It wasn't from lack of trying. Odd enough, the young man seemed to have disappeared from the face of Earth. He wasn't in his dorm room. Nor was he in study hall. Nor in the grounds, where Armin knew the boy was prone to running laps or swinging his baseball bat to work off pre-finals stress. He wouldn't pick up his calls either and Armin realised why... when he broke into Eren's room the next Sunday.

Eren left his cell on the desk.

His books were gone, meaning Armin's best friend was probably camped out at the hospital, crash studying. Clothes were strewn carelessly around the room, the computer was hibernating, a red scarf lay across its keyboard and the bed... showed no signs of having ever been slept in.

A messy room wasn't all that Armin found.

Inside the trash were two Polaroids. Armin recognised them in nostalgia. One crumpled, the other intact but both bearing the same words.

 

_Rivaille's face when he smiles_

 

When Armin saw the peacekeeper next, it was on a rainy morning days later.

Urging Krobe to keep quiet and stay under his bed, Armin pulled the lights of his dorm room, walked to the door and answered the incessant knocking.

Eren stood outside, soaking wet and shivering, his green eyes half lidded in a daze. He was dressed in the same clothes from a week ago, which made Armin wonder if the young man had showered at all. Armin battled his six am demons and woke up long enough to give the boy a wide-eyed stare.

'Eren. Where have you been? What the hell happened to you?'

The brunet swept a hand through his hair and pushed back the wet strands in one sloppy attempt. He nodded bleakly at his friend.

'I need help, Armin.'

And those were the last words Armin expected him to confess.

The shorter boy let out a snort.

'Yeah, I can see that, you idiot.'

Eren's lips showed the smallest hint of a smile. 'No, I mean,' he said, his voice sounding hoarse as the words left his mouth. 'I need help with the… Fourier. I've been studying all night, and I can't make sense of it. Laplace is alright, but Fourier is driving me up the wall. You mind if I–'

There was a bark from inside the room, and Eren was startled to hear it. He looked past his friend's shoulder, spotting the droid that had climbed on to Armin's bed. Red beady eyes shone brilliant in the darkness, just the way he remembered it. The pup wagged its metal tail, greeting Eren with another bark.

Oddly, Eren didn't reciprocate the greeting. Eyes widening a little, the peacekeeper took a measured step backwards and began to retreat.

'On second thoughts,' he said tersely. 'I think I'll figure it out on my own. I bet you've got your course load to worry about too.’

Before Eren could turn and pull his disappearing act again, Armin closed the door to his dorm room.

'Eren! Wait up!' the blond hissed, making the brunet halt in his steps. 'Aren't you gonna say hi–' Armin lowered his voice to a whisper and scanned the hallway to make sure they were entirely alone. 'Aren't you gonna say hi to Krobe? It's not his fault, y’know. He misses you.'

The brunet opened his mouth to answer, but then he spotted three of their classmates turn up at the end of the corridor. Hoover and co, Armin recognised with a sense of dread. Aka the anti-gay brigade that had been posting nasty comments about Eren on the school forums. They caught sight of the peacekeeper and let out howls of laughter.

'Guys, guys! Lookie, Faeger's returned from his fairy land,' Hoover pointed out, clapping his hands and giving a menacing grin.

'How now, _spirit_! Whither wander you?' asked another, making a lewd gesture with his hands.

'What's the name of the bloke again? The faggot you were shagging, Jaeger?’

‘Fivaille something?'

They cackled and laughed at their own jokes, thumping each other’s backs as they passed out of earshot.

Eren stood in his spot, watching the empty hallway blankly. His face was pale.

Armin approached him hesitantly and reached out to touch his best friend's shoulder. But the young man flinched at the contact.

Armin let out a sharp breath.

'Eren, don't get mad at them. They're just a bunch of idiots. Not worth it. You saved the world and their asses, don't you forget it!'

Much to his surprise, Eren nodded.

'Yeah, I remember,' he admitted, but Armin detected a bitterness in his tone. 'It's fine. I'm not mad at anyone, Armin,' he took a deep breath and the tension in his shoulders eased a little. 'And I lied. I didn't need help with Fourier. That's not what I came for. I just… I just wanted to know something.'

Armin looked at him curiously.

'Like what?' he prompted.

Eren shook his head, jaw clenched.

'It's okay.  In the end, I didn't really want the answer.'

 

 

 

 

 

'Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall... Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.'

The room was dark, lit by the light of an overhead neon lamp and the fluorescent glow of the machines’ tickers. A steady wave beeped on the cardiogram— calm, rhythmic and almost lulling him to sleep. He wasn't supposed to be here outside of visiting hours, but what was one goddam door against him– the peacekeeper of the universe? Especially when Eren Jaeger had built himself a reputation of being a rule breaker. (And apparently, even a _fairy_.)

'Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,' he recited in a whisper.

He did have a penchant for lullabies and rhymes, a trait he must have inherited from his mother.

The young man smiled despite himself. He thought he'd left behind fairies and goblins in his childhood. But they seemed to follow him around wherever he went. Just like the voice in his head.

He looked at the woman sleeping in her bed, the covers drawn high to her chin. Carla Jaeger's chest rose and fell at a measured pace, her lungs still working, supplying the necessary oxygen to keep her alive. He reached out and caught her limp hand in his. Eren traced his mother’s fingers, thinner and paler than his.

Since his return, he'd stayed by her side whenever he could. He'd talk to her... hoping to revive her with his words.

Luck wasn't on his side.

'I met dad, you know,' he told the lifeless woman. 'We didn't talk much, but he's doing okay. The old fart still loves you. I could see that.' Eren stopped speaking when he heard footsteps scuttle down the hallway. Through the Venetian blinds, he caught sight of paramedics and a stretcher being rolled to ER. Midnight hour, and there was no dearth for patients. The whole place depressed him. Pressing his elbows on the bed, he ducked, drawing closer to his mother. He laced their hands together and pressed his mouth to the pale fingers enclosed within his.

'You know what really surprised me?' he said in a whisper. 'That you were keeping secrets too. You didn't tell me dad was keeping in touch. You even knew where he was, mom. Why didn't you... tell me?'

It was a rhetorical question. Eren knew the answer.

To protect him.

That's what they'd wanted.

He smiled. Even if the world called him names, even if he was fortune's favorite bootboy, Eren knew he was still lucky. For he had parents who protected him at all cost, friends who braved every hurdle to stay by his side and... and...

And _what_?

Eren placed his mother's hand gently back on the mattress. He stared ahead into blank space and sighed.

'I found him, mom,' confided the young man with a nostalgic smile. 'Didn't recognise him at first, cos he was wearing a mask. Rorschach’s mask. Or maybe, he found me first,' he chuckled at the memory. 'It was fun while it lasted. We fought, hitched a ride together, crashed in the desert, played catch, saved the world, even met a Llama... and... yeah, in the end, I lost him again. Weird, huh?'

He reached into the pocket of his jacket and drew out a coin.

'And before saying goodbye, he gives me this,' Eren said, turning the coin over in his palm. He looked long at the symbol of infinity and then at the Lady of Justice, the coin's minted edges glimmering in the light. 'What the heck am I supposed to do with it? I thought I knew him... but I don't get that jerk sometimes.'

Eren went painfully quiet.

‘I don't understand myself either,' he confided, staring at the contraptions around his mother. 'You know why I left the first time? Because he said there was no 'us'. That hurt, stung like Titan's rains on a bad day. But that's when I didn't know the truth,' Eren said and let out a snort. 'So, mom. Guess what really hurts?'

She didn't say anything.

'Him saying he loves me... but having to leave anyway.'

He looked at the coin a second time before sweeping it into his pocket again.

He reached for his mother's hand and held it to his shut eyes. His hands felt oddly empty, especially that one finger of his right.

'Everyone said deal with it. Jean, dad... even him. And I'm trying. I swear to God, I’m trying my best. But you know why it's difficult? Because I'm alone here, and I see you this way,' said Eren. He pulled back and looked long at his mother... almost as if he were waiting for a sign. 'I need you, mum. So, please wake up. Scold me again. Tell me I’m the shittiest son alive. Tell me I’m too old for comic books. Tell me to study harder. Tell me if I play videogames all day, my sight's gonna go bad. Talk crazy to me. Tell me about the shadows again. Tell me about the things you see that aren't real. It doesn't matter. I just _need_ to hear your voice... one more time,' he broke off, lips quivering again. 'Please talk to me.'

Eren went quiet and watched his mother steadily.

The sleeping woman didn't stir.

The old rhyme came back to him.

'Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,' he recited. 'Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king's horses and all the king's men. Couldn't put Humpty together again,' Eren finished with a tear-stricken smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He'd been discovered, and Nurse Robbins wasn't too happy about his break-in.

Eren found himself directed to the office of the counsellor, where a Dr. Reed looked at him like he was a lab rat and with as much enthusiasm as she had for baboons. She was a large woman and could have passed for a Kathy Bates doppelganger if she tried hard enough. The woman scratched her chin and flashed him a soothing smile.

'Eren Jaeger, is it? You're Carla's son?' she asked, her friendliness sounding forced.

Eren fiddled with a bobble head toy on her desk. He looked around the medico's room, catching sight of a poster that claimed 'Smile! You're in SAFE hands!'

'Yeah,' he nodded. 'That's me, alright.'

Dr. Reed pushed the thick rimmed glasses up her nose and nodded at Nurse Robbins, asking her to leave them alone. Eren heard the door slide shut behind them with an ominous click. He didn't like it here. Surrounded by these grey scale walls and fake posters, Eren felt troubled.

'Why am I here?' he asked her.

Dr. Reed gave him a fake smile to put the young man at ease.

'Nurse Robbins is very concerned about you, Eren. She's been taking care of your mother for a very long time. And she brought it to my attention that counselling might be beneficial for you.’

'I'm fine,' he cut in. 'Look, ma'am, I appreciate the gesture and stuff… but I've got school, college finals, and I need to get back to studying.'

She nodded in understanding, a little too quickly Eren noticed. There was briskness and a clinical professionalism to her manner that he didn't like. 'Of course, but this is important too. You are under a lot of stress, Eren. And trust me, I speak from experience. Talking about your problems will make you feel better. I'm a counsellor and a certified therapist. If there is anything you want to talk about... I might be able to help you,' she spoke to him in a reedy voice, as if she were talking to a child.

The peacekeeper almost smiled.

He wondered how she'd react if she knew the truth.

That he was a half alien sitting in her office.

Odd enough, Dr. Reed mirrored him.

'Nurse Robbins overheard you talking to your mother. I assure you that we didn't mean to intrude, but...'

Eren turned a sickly shade of pale.

Dr. Reed nodded, continuing.

'She heard you talking about Llamas, Titan and... more.'

The young man swept his gaze to the bobble toy, watching its head move hypnotically.

'Eren, you do realise that schizophrenia is genetically linked. If you are hallucinating, it could–'

And those were the words to open the floodgates.

'I’m NOT crazy!' he roared, turquoise green eyes going wide and furious. 'You know nothing about me! You hear me? Nothing!'

Dr. Reed fell silent, watching him in alarm. Her hand hovered over the intercom, almost as if she was waiting for him to flip.

'I was just trying to help, Mr. Jaeger,' the doppelganger said.

'Sorry,' Eren mumbled and got to his feet. 'But I don't need anyone's help right now.'

 

 

 

 

 

Eren sat in the hospital's cafeteria where fortunately Nurse Robbins had no rule over. He sat alone at a table for four with the coin laid out before him. There was no one around, no one except for a paramedic chatting up with a nurse behind the snacks counter. Eren looked at the coin again. There it was, his only proof that everything wasn't a lie. His only proof that the world he'd shared with that one guy had really existed.

It was real, wasn't it?

Those shared memories. That almost kiss in the rain. The Vigilante. The night spent in the shady hotel. A lifetime of memories.

Eren pressed the bridge of his nose, eyes dimming almost in prayer.

He stared at the coin, expecting it to unravel the truth of the universe. Or sing an ode to him.

Nothing happened.

He picked the coin up and flicked his thumb, tossing it.

It sailed high in the air and landed on justice with a clink. Heads, it was.

He picked it up and tossed a second time. Heads again.

_Lady Justice_

He tossed a third time. Tails.

_Infinity_

A fourth time.

_Lady Justice_

A fifth.

_Infinity_

He kept tossing and at some point, it became a game. Eren didn't even care which side it landed on. Because in the end, it didn't matter.

With a grunt, Eren shoved the coin aside and forced himself to work on his studies. He'd buried himself into Irodov's Numerical Problems when the chair pulled before him, and a girl sat down. Eren glanced up and froze, color draining from his face. For the girl had drawn back her hood, and Annie Leonhart graced him with a sober smile.

'Hey Eren.'

 

* * *

 


	101. Nothing's Fair in Love and War

 

 

Chapter-101- Nothing’s Fair in Love and War

~.~

 

_Vrrrrrrrrr_

The cell that Hannes gifted him for his twenty-first birthday, the cell that his best friend forced him to keep, gave a buzz— a violent little buzz as it teetered off the edge of his notebook and skidded on to the table.

He passed a quick glance over the display and read the caller ID. It was a name that he'd recently changed from 'Horse dung' to 'Llama lover'. Jean didn't have a clue, thankfully. It wasn't the first time that Eren's friends were calling up to check up on him. Nor would it be the last time. They were worried about him, and considering the delightful company Eren kept these days, they had every right to be concerned.

_Vrrrrrrrrr. Vrrrrrrrrr._

Eren ignored his vibrating phone and turned back to the girl. He was standing, he came to realize. Though he didn't remember when exactly he'd bolted out of his chair or grabbed Irodov in defense. Before he even knew it, his reflexes for self-preservation had kicked in. _Not again,_ he vowed to himself, gritting his teeth. He won't be beaten to a pulp a second time.

It was the same for the lioness. The girl was on her feet too; she mirrored his movements, bracing herself with her left fist forward. They gauged one another for the first few seconds, each on their guard. Annie glanced at the textbook in his hand and raised an eyebrow.

'A book?' she said, shaking with laughter. 'You're gonna hit me with a book, Jaeger?' she teased him, her voice composed and eerily filled with humor. 'From blades and guns, we're down to...' she paused, giving a vague shrug at his weapon of choice. '... books, huh?'

Eren watched her furiously, unable to keep the contempt from his voice.

'It's a darn heavy book,' he said tightly. 'Trust me on that, Annie.'

And it was. Even if Irodov's mammoth epic didn't help him scrape through his finals, even if the book was two months overdue on his library card, it would be all worth it... if he could just clobber the ice queen in one shot.

Annie smiled. Almost as if she could read what was going through his head.

'I bet it is,' she quipped and raised her other hand to gesture towards the snack counter. Eren turned to look at it, and he realised what she was pointing at. They’d drawn attention. Both the paramedic and the nurse in their company were staring at them, particularly at Eren's hostile stance.

'Easy, tiger,' Annie muttered under her breath, well out of everyone's earshot. 'I'm just here to talk. Unless you want the civilians to find out the truth about _you_ , halfling, I suggest we sit down and play nice.' An insidious smile came over her. 'Can you do that, Eren?' she challenged, her voice now coated with sweetness, her blue eyes a glimmer. 'Can you sit down and talk like a _normal_ human being?'

Another jibe marked at him.

Eren looked across at the cafeteria again. Both the paramedic and nurse were still watching them, the uniformed man reaching for the radio strapped to his belt. Though Eren hated to admit it, Annie was right. The last thing he needed was to be booted out of his mother's hospital for creating a scene.

He reluctantly dropped his guard. The hand holding the book came down, and Eren took his seat stiffly. But his eyes didn't stray from the girl before him. No, he wasn't going to give Annie Leonhart the benefit of the doubt, not yet. He scanned her from head to toe and realised why he hadn’t recognized her sooner. She looked different… so not like the Annie he knew. The cargo pants and combat boots were gone. Instead, she was wearing a fleece jacket over leggings. Casual. Way too casual. She'd cut her bangs short and didn't restrain them with a band either. Eren blinked at her, rendered speechless for a moment. A carefree Annie was a whole new shock to his system.

'So, you got out,' he finally managed to say.

The girl gave a slow nod and rubbed her sleeve. She might have had a makeover, but deep down, Annie Leonhart was still the most melancholic girl in existence. Her brooding demeanor cracked just enough to allow a smile through. 

She winked at him.

'You were hoping I wouldn't?' she asked.

Eren didn't say anything but gave her a cagey look.

Annie was still smiling; her blue eyes sharp and keen as always. 'It's alright, Jaeger,' she said, reaching out to pat his hand patronizingly. 'You can admit to it. You don't have to play the nice guy with me.'

The young man watched her evenly.

'Don't mind if I do then,' he confessed, unable to keep the edge from his voice. 'Yeah,' Eren muttered, and he pulled his hand away from her grasp. 'I did hope you'd get stuck there. I hoped you'd rot on Titan forever. You'd deserve it… for what you did to my mom.'

Strangely, Annie didn't show remorse for her crimes nor did her smile falter.

'That's better,’ she cooed. ‘That's the Eren we all love. See? It wasn’t so difficult.'

Again with the mocking.

Eren narrowed his gaze, leaning in over the table.

'Why are you here, Annie?' he hissed at her, keeping his voice low. 'You've got some nerve to come back here!'

Annie shrugged. The girl stole a look around the hall. The paramedic and the nurse were gone; tables around them were still empty and unoccupied, and the cafeteria staff were too sluggish to be watching them. When she was assured that they were alone, the girl reached into her jacket and pulled out a pouch. A small black pouch. She unzipped it. Giving Eren a long look, she flipped it open and laid it out on the table for him to see.

Inside the pouch were five holders but all were empty except for the one at the end. This last pocket held a syringe containing a dilute red fluid and a label that just said '108Dm'.

'What’s this?' he asked her.

'A peace offering. It's the cure you were looking for,' revealed Annie, her face betraying no emotion. 'I didn't go to med school, Jaeger. But Lawrence told me that this is it. The one drug that can fix your mom. The one cure that will subdue the defective markers in her DNA…' she shrugged her shoulders and flicked a speck of dust off her sleeve. 'Or some shit like that. Go figure.'

Eren stared at the syringe.

Defective markers.

A cure?

Eren didn't remember when he'd stopped breathing. He stared long and hard at the pouch.

'No way.'

'You don't believe me?' she asked, studying him carefully. 'It's the truth. Cross my heart and hope to die,' she quipped in mirth, pressing a fist over her heart. This time he wondered if she was mocking the world they'd left behind.

The brown-haired keeper felt his throat go dry.

'Even if you are saying the truth…' he trailed. 'Why are you giving this to me? What’s the catch?'

‘There’s no catch.’

‘As if I’d believe that.’

But Annie wasn't one for explanations. She growled in annoyance, kicked back her chair and made to leave. However, Eren grabbed her wrist, holding her in place.

'Do you think this is going to fix everything?' he demanded and forced his voice down when he saw the cafeteria staff look their way. 'You think this is going to erase all that you did?' he whispered harshly.

Annie remained nonplussed.

'An eye for an eye, Eren,’ she told him. ‘A tooth for a tooth. I've paid my dues. I don't owe you anything anymore. Take the cure or leave it.'

Eren watched her bitterly and shook his head, turning down the offer.

'You're wrong, ice queen. This doesn't fix anything. You can take it back.'

Annie went silent, gawking at him in surprise.

'Are you an idiot?’ she hissed. ‘It’s the cure, Jaeger. Don’t be a fool.’

'No,' Eren said, lowering his eyes to the table. His gaze was awash with uncertainty. 'I _was_ an idiot. An immature one. Someone who blamed everyone else for his own problems. But not anymore. I'm not running away from this,' he looked up at her, determination set in his features. 'I don't want your miracle drug, Annie. All I want is for my mom to wake up. Even if she's broken, I want her back. Just the way she is,' he said, feeling for the empty place around his neck. ‘That’s all I need.’

The girl wasn't moved by his stance.

'Last chance, Jaeger,' she warned him, reaching for the pouch. She hadn't withdrawn it yet as though she still wanted Eren to think it over. To accept her offering. And in accepting, perhaps clear her marred conscience. 'If not you, I have other buyers. In case you didn't notice, _Dalai Lama_ —' she said, peering around and giving the hospital a look of revulsion, '— There are lot of sick people around in this world of ours. This thing can fetch a high price, you know. Heck, I could move to Barbados, rent a condo and live on the beach. That's what you want, Jaeger? Me being happy _and_ rich? I could be sunbathing and sipping on a cocktail in the Carribean. Is that what you want?'

Eren loosened his grip on her wrist. He didn't say anything but looked at the pouch gingerly. The cure to his mother's madness was right there, tempting him. Yet, his uncertainties remained. Why did his father never try to cure her? Why?

Eren had an inkling why. Because it wouldn’t be fair. He lifted a hand and pushed the pouch towards the girl.

Annie waited for Eren to change his mind.

And when he didn’t, she groaned at his stubbornness.

'Fine,' she relented. 'Don't regret it later.'

'I won't,' the peacekeeper vowed again.

Annie caught hold of the pouch and stuffed it into her pocket in silence. Without another word, she turned on her heels and made to leave. She was almost at the cafeteria exit when Eren called out her name… before he could even stop himself. But it had been bugging him from the beginning. The lioness's whole makeover; her change of heart; the four empty syringes in the pouch. Every sign pointing to something. Or perhaps _someone_.

'Annie!'

Annie glanced at the civilians first before turning her attention to him.

'What?' she prompted impatiently.

Eren hesitated before voicing his question. 'What happened to that guy?' he asked her. 'Bertolt?'

Her face was expressionless before the smallest of smiles crept up on her lips. It was the first genuine smile he'd ever seen on the ice queen’s face.

'Cancer's in remission,' she revealed. 'Docs have him under observation; he'll pull through.'

Meaning, she'd saved him.

Eren acknowledged the news with a nod, his shoulders easing. He was relieved... though he didn't understand why. He’d wanted Annie to rot in hell, true, but Eren guessed that the Bertolt guy deserved better.

'Congrats,' the peacekeeper managed to say.

Annie shrugged in nonchalance.

'I can’t claim insurance anymore… but hey I still got company.'

Annie turned, took one step towards the exit but then stopped in her tracks again. She glanced at him over her shoulder.

'Hey. Your father destroyed the gateways, didn't he?'

Eren averted his gaze and gave a nod.

'Yeah.'

There was a silence before he heard her speak.

'You chose Duty, Jaeger. I chose Love. Who'd have ever guessed?'

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

12:48 am.

It was an unearthly hour.

Eren almost smiled at the oxymoron.

With Annie gone, the peacekeeper tried tackling his books again. Though the wail of the ambulances turned out to be a total mood killer for studying. Heaving a sigh, Eren decided to try his luck in the visitor’s lounge. The lounge didn't fare any better because he'd made the mistake of sitting across the nurse station, which was having a slow day (night, whatever). Apparently, tragic young men with comatose mothers made for hot-off-the-press boyfriend material. He could hear the nurses giggling behind their supply cabinets.

'Psst, check out hottie at twelve o clock.'

‘Dayum, girl. That’s a nice catch.’

'Oh no, you don't. I saw him first! A college grad I betcha,' said another.

Cue giggling and the rustle of papers.

Eren pressed the nib of his marker until the color began to blot the pages. He ran a hand through his hair, trying not to be vexed. Seriously, was he getting hit on at a time like this? Of course, the nurses over here had no way of knowing that his mother was admitted in the psychiatric division. The women (and a gay attendant) had now begun speculating on his love life.

'You think the kid's got a girlfriend, Pete?'

'I guess not. She'd be around, wouldn't she?'

'But isn't he too young for you, Naomi?'

'Not by much. And you know what they say about young stallions.'

There was a round of laughter, and Eren could feel them passing discreet looks his way.

'You cougar. Don't let the superintendent catch you saying something like that.'

'But look at those lean muscles. At that boyish face. Now, that's the kinda face mama wants to go home to… ain't that right?'

Cue more giggling.

Eren slammed his book shut, earning surprised squeaks from the nurse station. Piqued, he directed a glare at the ladies (and the gay nursing attendant). The effect was instantaneous. Their giggling ceased; there was a riff-raff of reports exchanging hands and the cohorts in crime hid themselves behind paperwork.

Eren Jaeger got up from his seat and walked over to a vending machine. A drink. Coke, Mountain Dew... anything, really. He’d even be okay with some Kombachu tea. Anything to cool his head. He patted his pockets down and heard the tinkle of change. In his rush to dig out a dollar, a coin slipped out. Eren watched it hit the ground, bounce twice... before it tinkered away, rolling to the foot of the lounge sofa.

Not just any coin.

But the Titan denomination.

As Eren bent to pick it up, he read the toss.

Infinity.

The brunet watched it long before turning the coin over. He felt the wind knocked out of his lungs and the familiar racing of his heart. Eren couldn't help but stare. For instead of finding Lady Justice, he discovered the loop of infinity.

Infinity and Infinity. Rigged just like he'd thought.

'How–?' he wondered.

Overcome by a sudden giddiness, an inexplicable euphoria of hearing that voice again from beyond, he traced the edges of the coin, trying to figure out the roots of the mystery. He rubbed at the engraving, scratched at the coin’s mint. Nothing. Until he ran a finger along the coin’s circumference when he felt the faintest of ridges.

And that's when it happened.

The coin's surface shimmered like a hologram. Infinity disappeared with a poof, melting into the metal; Lady Justice returned to take her usual place.

Eren stared transfixed at the profile of the blindfolded woman. He slid down the wall to sit against the vending machine. He felt tired, withdrawn… and cheated. Yeah, a whole lot of 'cheated'. There was that voice in his head again, calm and collected in the face of every adversity.

 

_I'm not giving you that choice, soldier._

_Leave it to fate._

 

Eren inhaled deeply.

'Liar, liar. Pants on fire,' murmured the young man, pressing a hand over his mouth and looking at the coin as if it were a memento. A treasured memento. His expression went soft, and he looked at the coin tenderly. 'You pulled a fast one on me, you bastard. Then again, you were always making my choices, weren't you?'

Eren didn't know whether he should be angry or relieved. He lifted the coin to his mouth, pressing his lips to it and savoring its feel. The metal was cold against his mouth and sent a shiver down his neck. He wondered how his guardian was doing. The pokerface ought to have forgotten him by now. He'd have swept Eren under the carpet and was probably busy saving the universe.

'I hope you're happy,' Eren mumbled into the silence.

He pressed his eyes shut and breathed in.

His moment of reflection didn’t last long. He heard footsteps approaching, steps of a different kind. Fast, clipped, a click-clack against the hospital’s polished floors, steps full of purpose. A familiar stout figure turned around the corner, shot a withering look at the nurse station and then headed his way.

'Mr. Jaeger!' Nurse Robbins called out, as she slowed to a stop, placed a hand on the vending machine and caught her breath. She stared wide-eyed at him, looking a touch winded. 'Why, there you are. I was looking all over for you!'

Eren watched her before pocketing the coin hesitantly. He hoped she hadn't seen him talking to it. The last thing the peacekeeper needed was another psychiatric evaluation.

Before she could get another word in, he started to protest. 'Look, I'm not going to the counsellor again. I am NOT delusional, Nurse Robbins. I’m not cracking from the stress either–'

Nurse Robbins clucked her tongue.

'Yes, yes, you are a peach, Mr. Jaeger. A real peach. But we are not here to talk about _you_ ,' the middle-aged woman sighed, giving him a smile. Eren was left confounded. The peacekeeper began to wonder to wonder why all the coldblooded women in his life were being genial to him tonight.  'It's about your mother, son. Come with me!'

 

 

 

 

She’d kept her truck parked in the space reserved for the disabled. She was turning a new leaf, yes, but she wasn’t going to become ‘good’ overnight. It was going to take baby steps to get there. Annie sat down behind the steering wheel of her Ford and fished out the pouch from her fleece jacket. She gave it a long look before putting it away on the dashboard, where it joined an assortment of trinkets: keys, a bouquet of flowers refused by its recipient, and a bag of scrabble letters.

Her phone gave a buzz, and she glimpsed at it. 

A message from Bertolt.

_[Did he take it?]_

_No, he didn’t_ — she replied.

Bertolt's reply was another question.

_[Why?]_

Annie looked at Stanley Memorial, studying the hospital’s signs, its people and machines, before keying in her answer.

_He’s changed too._

There was a contemplative pause before her phone buzzed again in her lap.

_[Do you want to play scrabble?]_

Annie smiled.

_I’d like that. Yeah._

* * *

 


	102. Ghost in the Bathtub

 

 

Chapter-102- Ghost in the Bathtub

~.~

In a world far away, the man who Eren assumed, would sweep him under the carpet, the hero who should have been out saving the universe… was doing none of those things. Instead, he sat in his apartment, quiet and still, as if he were serving a death sentence. Shadows hung around him, and his limp hand held a rag. But to his distress, there was nothing left to clean. The kitchen was spotless, the bathroom dry and pristine, the bed made and even the living room showed no signs of clutter.

Where was chaos when he needed it?

He wasn't really a man for rituals. The line between duty and ritual had become thin over the years. Cleaning was a chore but to Levi, it was a ritual. Eating-- the very opposite. This explained why the takeout containers sat unopened on the dining table. Come what may, his rituals kept him from thinking. There had been times in his life when he knew what to feel but chose not to feel it. There had been times when he shouldn't be thinking yet chose to think it anyway.

 _Eliminate choice, eliminate thinking,_ he'd told his ward.

It'd been easy back then. When chaos had been a part of his life, and Rivaille Levi hadn't been searching for it. When the walls were up, and he never had that first taste of freedom. But the choice to be more than a guardian was his alone. And so were the consequences.

Did he regret it?

Did he really regret it?

Levi ran a hand along his undercut and exhaled. He wished he knew.

Apparently, everyone missed the blazing sun. The urchins on the street with their 'Where's Bagel Eren?', the android at the mart which sought his usual companion, Mrs. Norman from next door and her black cat Mr. Jenkins, which kept pawing at his shoe. 'Where is Eren?' Mrs. Norman had asked the day he returned to the Helum Towers. Levi's reply was curt, devoid of emotion.

'Home,' he simply said. 'He's gone home.'

The old woman wearing the fishnet over her grey hair looked startled at this reply.

'Home? Oh, but when's he coming back?'

Levi didn't give her an answer. He merely gave a nod to the old neighbor before shutting himself behind the door.

It had been a week since he returned to the old apartment. He’d tossed the keys, turned off the biosensors and slumped into a corner. The thoughts he'd held at bay finally came crashing down. The façade gave away to a turbulent mind. He thought about Izzie and his fatherless godchild; he thought about Magnum's death, and the careful stage he'd set for Erwin. The currents of change had begun. His work was done; all he had to do was wait for the outcome.

Normalcy ought to be easy.

Yet it had been a week and he was still slumped in this corner.

Why?

As he looked around the dark living room of #1263, Levi realised there was an irony mixed somewhere here. How Trost's blackout had ended and how his began. He could hear Mrs. Norman watching the news again. The old woman was either short of hearing or the walls were paper thin. He could hear every word of the reporter as clear as day.

'Good afternoon, folks. This is Marlowe, live from Stonehess,' spoke the newsreader from Mrs. Norman's telescreen. 'Welcome to all our viewers in Ulkridge, Trost and around the world. We at UN207 are here to bring you the latest developments.'

He heard a droid cat mewl for Mrs. Norman's attention. But Levi’s batty old neighbor remained glued to the news.

'In what’s turning out to be a real life political broiler, the negotiations between the rebels and the army diplomats are underway. There appears to be traction on the lesser terms of the treaty  _and_ sources claim that Commander Smith's backing of the rebel's appeals might just be the push that the capital needs. Indeed, we are hearing that there have been offers and counter offers coming, a key concern being recognition and demand for rights to basic amenities for the subpar.'

Levi smiled.

Erwin should be enjoying all the limelight.

'Meanwhile as we heard from ground reports yesterday, the blackout of Trost has come to an effective end. Power has been restored to the city, all subway lines are operational again and the network is BACK. I repeat, viewers, the city's network lines _have_ been restored to Gale. In a press conference given late evening, Trost's mayor urged the citizens to stay calm, announcing plans for a risk assessment committee. And with regard to the mutinous factions of the Titan Army, who are believed to be the _cause_ for the blackout, we have learnt that one of the principle terms made by Commander Smith was a full pardon. Now, let's go over to Hitch who is getting an exclusive interview with Commander Erwin Smith, a key participant in the Stonehess talks.'

Mrs. Norman didn't seem to be a fan of Hitch. She changed channels to a cookery show on mimosas. An hour later, she turned off the telescreen, and Levi knew it must be dinner time for the cats.

And there it was again— sneaking up on him, uninvited.

Silence, his arch enemy.

 

_We could…you know, start a family._

 

The silence was loud, but not loud enough to drown the voices in his head. Especially that voice which could go from childish laughter to guttural fury in a tic.

 

_A place with a good sun. A place by the beach, white sands and where you could hear the waves crashing against the rocks. Yeah… We'd be a great team. You could teach the kid how to be a ninja... while I'll teach them the ropes about how to stay out of trouble and maybe, yeah… maybe even help with homework. And hey, if I can't, there is always Armin. Plus, Krobe can be the family mascot. He can be the kids' watchdog…_

 

Levi took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

The ghost wouldn't leave him. And for the first time Levi's careful reserve had fault lines, cracks that ran along the edges of memory. Starting from the doorstep where a teenager was prone to test the limits of his patience to the empty frames in the living room that had once encased pictures of a smile unrivaled. From the couch where the boy had tested the waters with a kiss… to the balcony where the teenager would sit and gaze at the city, mesmerized.

Where did the memories end?

Where did they even begin?

No, he did know where they began.

The Vigilante got to his feet and walked into his bedroom, measuring each step. He crossed three quarters of the length and emerged into the bathroom. No kid to threaten him with a blade this time. No alien brat to accuse him of kidnapping. He walked over to the shower curtains, shifted them... and there it was.

 

_'Does this bring back memories of the first time we met?'_

_'Am I that easy to throw away for you?'_

 

No. To be honest, no.

Because each time was tougher than the last.

He looked around the bath stiffly but didn't linger. Levi's feet seemed to have a will of their own. They took him out of the bath, led him out of the bedroom and out into the open space of the balcony. It wasn't the way he remembered it. The helumbary were withered in their pots; the low walls were charred; the paint covered in a layer of dust, ash and those traitorous memories.

Levi strode over to the edge of the balcony. He leaned across the railing to glance at the city below. Even as he stood there, he could hear a chant. Words coming out of a teenager he'd not known then.

 

_'One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi…'_

 

Within a heartbeat, the chanting grew furious.

_'Three forty four fuckin' bastard. Three forty five fuckin' asshole. Three forty six dickhead..'_

 

Levi smiled, despite the threats from memory.

'Such a fierce kid,' he muttered under his breath.

The Vigilante scanned the city in silence. The furious counting in his head had changed into the scratchy ritch-ratch of cables. It took him a moment to realize that the noise wasn't just in his head. Levi looked up and found Farlan scaling down the Helum Towers. The cables stopped, and the rebel leader hung at 1263's balcony, poised on its railing.

Farlan threw back his cloak's hood, greeting Levi with a sober smile.

Levi didn't return the greeting.

'You could have tried the front door, Church. My house comes with fully equipped bell,' he said instead.

Farlan grimaced.

'That may be true… but I’m trying to keep a low profile, Captain.'

Levi grunted skeptically and gestured to the gear.

'And _this_ is low profile?'

Farlan smiled at the jibe.

'Never mind about me,' he trailed, watching Levi in a revered gaze. 'I came to check on you. So, how are you holding up, Rivaille?'

Rivaille.

Meaning, Farlan was addressing him friend to friend. Not as a Captain.

Levi didn't answer the question outright. Instead, he turned back to the skyscraper city, losing himself in the sights again. High rises, electric billboards and a smog marred the view of the sky. A merchant ship cruised between towers, the banner of Mechatronics Inc. and a sales promo of its cutting-edge products fluttered behind the craft.

'How did the talks go?' Levi asked instead, trying to change the subject.

Farlan shrugged as he dug his boot into a wedge and perched himself most dangerously on the railing. 'I hate to compliment your pal, the commander, but he has his strengths. Erwin is very persuasive at the negotiating table. I admit I misjudged him.'

Levi smiled.

'To win a war with words, you need Erwin. You and I can play with bazookas and bombs all we want, but its people like Erwin who will win the war for you.'

For once, Farlan seemed to agree with him.

Levi caught him looking around the balcony. His close aide noticed the broken pots first and following the trail of damage, discovered the rest of the mishap.

'Good God. I'd forgotten about the accident,' the rebel leader said, letting out a low whistle. 'He sure knows how to leave a place, doesn't he?'

Levi said nothing at first. Silence consumed them, and he let Titan's aimless winds bristle through their company.

'Troublesome kid, that's what he is,' Levi finally said. 'A spark-plug with a thin fuse. First time he broke my telescreen. Now I can't watch the blasted news...' Levi picked up a charred water can and tossed it aside. Farlan cringed at the rattle it made. Levi wasn't done complaining. 'Almost burnt down my house too. Brat should come with a warning label: Radioactive fire hazard. That's what he really is.'

Farlan couldn't help smiling.

The raven haired man caught the look on his face.

'What?' prompted Levi.

'You miss him.'

Levi threw him a dirty look.

'What part of radioactive fire hazard makes you think I miss the moron?'

'Every part,' said Farlan with a chuckle. 'Izzie is right. Say what you want, but we've seen the way you look at him. You miss him, Rivaille. It wouldn't hurt to admit it.'

Levi turned to the city again, his expression turning sour.

'Maybe I do... so what? We're going to sit here and swap tales of him. Sure, it was nice to have someone to come home to. But in the bigger scheme of things, feelings don't help anyone. It's over.'

Levi noticed Farlan looking at his watch, as if he were expecting someone.

His aide was still smiling.

'Remember what you told me, Captain? If life gives you lemons, make lemonade. And if life gives you a can of worms—?'

'You go trawling,' finished Levi. 'So, what?'

The doorbell rang but Gale withheld the name of the visitor.

Farlan nodded and winked at his old friend.

 

 

 

 

The doorbell buzzed again. This time Levi answered its call, only to find two people standing outside. Hanji Zoe was out of uniform. She was accompanied by a wired older figure with round glasses and a thinning beard. He looked healthier than the last time Levi had seen him. Less of a skeleton and more of a human being. Perhaps, both physically and spiritually. While the incarceration had chipped away years from Grisha Jaeger's lifespan, he seemed to be on a quick rebound under the watch of Hanji.

Levi folded his arms as he surveyed the two in apprehension, his grey eyes lingering on the man whom he ought to call his father-in-law.

'You're supposed to be in hiding,' he said to the old fossil.

Hanji let out a low hum in agreement.

'That's exactly what I told him. But he insisted on seeing you.'

'And you _let_ him?' Levi said to her in chagrin. ‘Nice witness protection, four eyes.’

Hanji threw her hands up in air. 'What did you want me to do? Restrain him? Handcuff him to the bed?'

Levi shot her a dark look in warning.

Grisha Jaeger said nothing as he forced himself past the Vigilante and entered the house of #1263. Levi followed him, disgruntled that his father-in-law didn't have the courtesy to take his shoes off. The apple didn't fall from the tree, apparently.

He also felt awkward. He didn't know how to address Eren's father. Dr. Jaeger didn't feel right. His pride wouldn't let him call the man 'sir'. And calling the man ‘father’… sounded so very _wrong_.

'What are you doing here, Baron?'

'I’m here to help you, Captain,' Grisha said, looking around the living room. Farlan joined them, having climbed through the open window. He busied himself with unstrapping the gear while Eren's father scanned the small apartment. The older man caught sight of the broken telescreen and gave it a puzzled look.

Hanji noticed him staring and burst out laughing.

'Ah, I see what you’re looking at,' she said, pointing to the hole in the middle. 'THIS is the highlight of your son's military career, Dr. Jaeger. Took a bat and smashed it right in the middle,' piped Hanji with enthusiasm, always eager to tattle on her favorite Earthborn. 'I've never been more proud of him.'

Grisha didn't share her sense of excitement. He turned to Levi, as if seeking confirmation.

'My son? You mean Eren… did this?'

Levi didn't say anything at first.

He scratched the back of his neck and shrugged.

'It was a long time ago. He's got a temper.'

Grisha nodded solemnly, not surprised to hear it. 'My apologies, he gets that angry side from me. He must have been a handful to you…' the older man glanced around at the house again, his sunken eyes softening. 'I haven't been a good parent, I admit. Carla and I should have raised him better.'

Levi shrugged.

'Well… he got his potty mouth from me. So, there. That makes us even.'

There was an awkward silence. The two men turned to stare at one another.

Levi cleared his throat.

'So, why _are_ you here?'

The question spurred the Grey Baron into action again. Nodding, he turned and was striding down the corridor to the bedroom unasked.

‘Like I said, Captain, I'm here to help you.'

'What’s that supposed to mean?'

'To help you, dear man. Meaning to aid your passage to Earth.'

Levi froze in his steps, wondering if he’d heard the man right.

'First,' said Levi. 'Don't walk into my house and tell me what I need to do. Second, last I checked, all the gateways have been destroyed.'

The scientist didn't stop.

'The ones on Gale, YES. But not the illegal ones.'

Levi scowled.

'Illegal gateways have no viable exits. It could be a wormhole to the middle of the At-Atlantis ocean,' he noticed the man smiling, but didn't ask why. 'No offense, old geezer… I might be married to your hotheaded son, but I'm not desperate enough to die for him.'

Levi heard a snort from behind. He turned and found both Farlan and Hanji exchanging a look and hiding their smiles.

'What?' he snapped at them. 'What's so funny?'

'Not desperate enough to die for him?' Hanji echoed with a laugh. 'Pfft, after all these years, you're still in denial.'

Farlan agreed with her assessment. 'You sure about that, Levi? Because history might have a different take on the matter.'

Levi cast a dark look at his old friends.

He turned back to the scientist, but the man had already crossed over to the door of his bathroom.

'Yes, Captain. You're correct,' Grisha Jaeger said. 'The illegal gateways are unassailable. They can't be traversed by State military, not by a layman either. Well, all except for _one.'_

He pushed open the door and pointed it out.

And there it was.

The bathtub.

 

 

 

 

It had to be the strangest day in the calendar.

His father-in-law was tinkering with a spectrometer in his bath while his two closest friends were assembled in his bedroom. Hanji was rummaging through his closet, her goggles glinting a little in excitement.

'What do you think you're doing?' he asked, stopping beside her.

'Trying to pick an outfit for you, my crabby old friend. Let's see now,' she said, running her hand through the clothes. 'Bastille suit, riot control uniform, state uniform, trench coat, white shirt… By Ness, Levi, how are you going to make an impression on Earthlings with this funeral set? They're going to think you're a freak. Oh wait… you _are_ a freak.'

'Not as much as you,' Levi cut in irritably.

She ignored him and clapped her hands in enthusiasm. ‘Ack. I almost forgot, silly me!’ Reaching into her vest, the squad leader rummaged through her pockets before drawing out something. 'Aha! With compliments from the morgue and Utgard,' she said, presenting the gift to him.

Levi stared at the rings she held out.

Two silver bands, each contained in a ziplock bag. One covered in soot, scavenged from the jet crash in the desert. The other from the fortress.

Levi inhaled but didn't reach for them. He shook his head.

'My place is here, Hanji.'

Farlan who'd been scouting the neighborhood for spies, stepped out of the balcony and into the bedroom.

'No, your place is on Earth, Captain,' he said.

Levi turned to him.

'What about the subpar?' he said. 'You said you needed a leader.'

Farlan smiled.

'Yes, and you've done more than enough. No offence, Captain but I'd rather have you _alive_ than dead,' his expression turned serious, voice reverent. 'The State knows who the Vigilante is, Rivaille. They will come for you eventually. Both Izzie and I don't want to lose you… not like Magnum.'

Levi grunted at the idea.

'You want me to run away? Is that it?'

There was a shuffle of footsteps, and Grisha Jaeger appeared, wiping his forehead with a clean white towel. He added his voice to the medley.

'If you won't do it for yourself,' the father said. 'Then do it for me.' Grisha Jaeger urged, giving Levi a weak smile. 'My son was right. I haven't been there for him, Captain. I wasn’t there for him when he needed help, but you were. The least I can do is make amends… to Eren and to his world.'

The scientist held up one hand and let the key dangle from it.

'And when you get there, you can toss this to the deepest trenches of oblivion. Will you do it?'

There was a strained silence.

Hanji pressed the ziplock bags into his hand.

'What's your choice, Vigilante?' she prompted him. 'What's it gonna be?'

 

 

 

 

Reiner had played host to all kinds of guests in his pub, but when he saw the redhead walk in, he was sure women with babies and dead people ashes didn't count as part of that list. He watched as the redhead took a seat at the counter, joining Farlan Church for a drink. She was a pretty woman, by all rights. With gold hoops in her ears, her emerald eyes sought out the décor to Reiner Braun's establishment. The innkeeper scrunched up her nose, unimpressed by what she saw. She placed her infant daughter on the counter top, where the child snuggled with the urn.

'I can't believe it... he left?' she asked Farlan, flopping into the seat beside him. 'Hermano left without even a word to me?'

Farlan managed a smile.

'He left us all a message, Izzie.'

Isabel Magnolia huffed.

'That's no comfort. What about his goddaughter? That conceited armadillo. I knew he had it bad for _guapo_ , but still—'

Farlan poured her a glass of purple wine to quieten her.

'He left Sol his biggest treasure.'

'Uh huh. Like what?' Isabel asked.

Farlan smiled into his drink before reaching into his cloak and drawing out an access card.

He passed it over the granite counter.

Isabel stared at the number, glinting against the lights of Diablo.

 _1263, Helum Towers,_ it said.

The redhead turned to the infant on the tabletop and smiled tearfully.

They heard the bartender curse, and both Farlan and Isabel looked up to find the man shaking a fist at the telescreen. As if it had personally wronged him. The soap opera that the bartender had been tuned to… was showing a preview of next week.

Reiner threw a towel over his shoulder and looked at the two of them.

'Season finale's gonna air next week, people. Lupin's going to propose to Emanuel this time. _Argh,_ I’m not ready, man. I’m so not ready.'

 

 

 

 

 

It was a beautiful morning on Earth, so decided Mr. Wong as he led the missus into the suburbs of Sylvan. The sky was a startling blue, the woods in the country swayed with the early winter breeze, the orchids were in season and it was just the perfect day to go house hunting.

Mr. Wong worked as a manager at HSBC bank. His was a story that every expatriate could relate to. With humble beginnings from the village of Dongzhou, Mr. Wong, fluent in both Mandarin and English had made his way up the career ladder from an accountant to a full scale manager. He had a slender, beautiful bride and now all he needed to complete this picture-perfect family was a house with a white picket fence and a dog. Since the lovely missus was allergic to canine hair, getting a dog became out of the question. So, a house it had to be.

Their real estate agent, a spiffy gent by the name of Mr. Fibber, led them to third prospect for the day.

And, it was love at first sight.

Mrs. Wong loved the sycamore trees surrounding the home; she loved the cobblestone path that led to the porch; she even liked the bedroom on the first floor, where the walls still showed dents of pins and posters. A place no doubt where a child had done all his growing up, blooming into a fine young adolescent. (But the Wongs had never met a certain Eren Jaeger, and so they could be forgiven for the grave error in judgment.)

What the missus didn't like was the scratchy noise from downstairs.

'Wh–What's that sound?' the short woman asked her dearly beloved.

Mr. Wong tried to be upbeat and positive. For some reason, Fibber was giving the house away on a discount, and the Chinese were always game for a good bargain.

'Must be a rat, dear. You know these old houses. They make strange sounds all the time. Isn't that right, Mr. Fibber?'

The real estate agent was a thorough professional.

'Oh no, sir, we do not tolerate rats in any of our premises. We have a strict anti-pest policy when it comes to our housing units–'

'What's that sound then?' Mr. Wong interrupted.

Here, Fibber lost some of his charm. 'A cat must have crawled in. Happens all the time, folks. And if anyone ever tells you a story that a crazy woman lived here, it's GIBBERISH! Do not pay them any attention! Now if you open the window here, there's a lovely sunrise to be spotted every morning. See, isn't that an absolutely breath-taking view—'

But Mrs. Wong was still looking around nervously. The scratchy sounds had stopped until… there was a crash. A crash that echoed through the entire house and made the wooden planks shake beneath her stilettos.

'That's no cat,' Mrs. Wong said.

Her husband looked at the corridor.

'It's coming from the basement.'

'A _Diao si gui!_ ' mumbled Mrs. Wong in panic. 'It must be a _Diao si gui_!'

Mr. Wong clutched his wife's hand. And to prove himself worthy of being a knight, he led the entourage downstairs to the basement. Their agent followed after them, protesting loudly. Mr. Fibber had every right to be disgruntled. This particular house had been the black sheep of his portfolio and just when he thought he could get a sale done, along comes a pseudo cat, rat... or whatever-the-hell-it-was to mess up his deal.

'That's ridiculous! You oriental folks watch too many horror movies! There are NO ghosts in this house! Our company has a strict–'

They stopped before the basement door where the sounds were grew louder.

At their approach, everything went quiet for a moment. Mrs. Wong whimpered in the silence and held on to her husband's arm.

Giving his wife a look of assurance, Mr. Wong squared his shoulders and approached the door cautiously. Before something body-slammed into the door and gave the newly-weds a fright of their lifetime. The banging resumed, resonating through the empty house.

_Thud!_

The door shook in its hinges.

_Thud!_

They could hear the wood splintering.

_THUD!_

There was a final creak, and the door slammed open in a rain of dust... revealing not a blood thirsty spirit with long hair. No, this was no _Diao si gui._ Or _Sadako_. Instead, it was a man in a grey sweater with a strange gear strapped to his chest and thighs, who coughed violently through the dust cloud. His cold eyes swept over them and around his neck, dangled an ornate key.

The Wongs turned to their real estate agent, waiting for an explanation. But Mr. Fibber stood petrified, having lost the faculty of his tongue himself. A cat he could explain. Even a pest problem could be rallied around with. But this? How in the world does one explain _this_?

They watched as the stranger strode up to them and grabbed Mr. Wong by the lapel of his dapper suit.

'What…' the ghost asked breathlessly, giving the banker a vigorous shake. 'What PLACE is this?'

Mr. Wong's tongue lolled in his mouth, the powers of speech having long left him.

'I asked a question!' the man barked at him.

'Th-Third street, Sylvan county,' Mr. Wong stammered in answer. 'L-Let me go...'

There was a 'tch'.

Mr. Wong couldn't believe he got 'tch'ed by a ghost.

'What planet?' demanded the ghoul this time.

The banker turned to the missus and gave a pleading look to his wife. And at her brave nod, he turned back to the crazy man.

'Earth, you _lunatic_. This is Earth, what else?!'

There was a pause before the stranger released Mr. Wong.

The man in the strange apparel turned, a smile breaking out on his face. Without another word, he bolted for the door and gave a laugh that sent a shiver down their necks.

 

* * *

 


	103. Searching for Sharkbait

 

 

 

 

Chapter-103- Searching for Sharkbait

~.~

 

For the first time in his life, Levi didn't have a plan. No blueprints, no strategy charts, no sealed orders to be executed. He was alone in an alien land with nothing but the clothes on his back and the gear. He was alone in a world, which wasn't as hostile or ruthless as Titan, but it was still a stranger to him.

Cliché though it may be, the first thing the Vigilante noticed was the green. The long leaves of grass that a neighbor had forgotten to mow, weeds grown wild, sycamore trees rustling with the breeze, bougainvillea arching over walls and the junipers. So much to take in and so little time. And as his grey eyes turned upward, beyond the solar paneled roofs and chimneys of Sylvan's suburbs, there was the sky painted above him. An unabashed vastness of blue that stretched and soared till the ends of the horizon. He could scarcely believe it. That he was finally here in Eren’s world— the blue green world of his ward.

Levi looked at the colors for a long moment before turning his attention back to the house he'd just vacated. The home of the Jaegers was abandoned. Their garden was browning, whittled from lack of care; their sprinklers dry and rusty. Someone— possibly the realtor— had put up a signboard that screamed 'For Sale' outside the fencing. There was a melancholy surrounding the home on 3rd Street. It was an empty shell now, but Levi could see visions of a boy growing up here. Doing the things young Earthborns were bound to do. Riding his bike, wrestling with friends, getting his ears boxed by his mother and reading his favorite comic books. Just the way it'd been in Eren's memories. The brat wasn't here, but Levi could see traces of the boy everywhere. In the air, in the ground and everything in between.

The guardian forced himself to walk away from the Jaeger home.

Because what Levi needed now wasn’t the past or the memories. But a future. Hopefully, one with the two of them together.

'Where are you?' he wondered out loud as he scanned the neighborhood. 'Where in this strange world are you, sharkbait?'

The cool breeze brought forth the scent of earth, but no answers.

Taking a deep breath in, he took off down the road, his footsteps echoing in the silence of a Sunday morning. His passage didn't go unnoticed. From their front porches, people passed him strange looks. Dogs (real live dogs, he noticed) barked furiously from their kennels, unsettled by his otherworldly scent. He passed a billboard and found a plethora of ads: KFC, Heineken, Starbucks, Coca Cola and other splashes of color. When he rounded the street, he almost collided head-on with a car. Levi braced himself for the impending crash, but the sedan pulled to a screeching halt before him, leaving skid marks on the asphalt. Levi heard a string of obscenities hurled his way. The door slammed open and the driver got down, but Levi didn't stick around to receive the insults.

Leaving onlookers furious, the guardian crossed the road, broke into a run and trekked down the pavement. He found himself at yet another intersection, a sign telling him to walk. Walk?

Strange city in a strange world; he didn't know where he was anymore. It was times like this that he missed the familiarity of the network.

So, now what?

The answer came in the form of a cruiser or what people here were bound to call a 'patrol car'.

Police?

He'd been here for not more than five tics, and he was already in trouble with law enforcement. Levi grimaced. Guess some old habits never changed.

The cruiser came to a stop, a glass window rolled down and a uniformed man slung his arm out the opening. With his hair unkempt, the man with the stubble drew up from his slouch sluggishly and peered at Levi. The police officer seemed especially taken by the gear Levi wore.

'Nice costume. Going to a convention, visitor?' the man asked Levi.

Levi watched him uneasily, not sure what a ‘convention’ was or if he could trust the man.

'No. I'm looking for someone,' he finally said.

The officer returned a curious glance and looked at him expectantly.

'O–kay. You got an address, pal?'

'An address?'

It was the officer's turn to look suspicious now.

'Well, if you're lookin' for somebody,' the man said in a deadpan voice. 'You gotta have an address.'

Levi looked around again, scanning the neighborhood.

'College,' he remembered suddenly. 'University of Mechanics… something like that.'

It was a vague answer, and Levi knew that he didn't sound convincing. The officer gave him the once-over again as if trying to ascertain whether Levi was saying the truth or bluffing it. But the poker face gave little away. The police officer heaved a sigh and opened the passenger side door.

'Sylvan University is not far from here. Hop in,' said the man as he turned the key and started the engine. 'The name is Hannes, by the way. I work for the precinct. You new around 'ere?'

 

 

 

 

'Kamikaze's not answering my call,' Jean grumbled as he plopped himself atop the counter and hit the redial button. 'Why isn't he answering my call? You think he's in trouble?'

Armin looked up from his Journal of Dentists and Orthodontists and shook his head. 'Oh, I don't know...' the blond trailed, not as eager as Jean to jump to conclusions. 'Between Mrs. Jaeger being in a coma and him trying to put his life back together after an epic break up, you'd think a guy would deserve some space. But no, you won’t give him any space at all. Nice work.' The blond flipped a glossy page and frowned at a rather graphic picture of bleeding gums. 'For the record, you're acting like a total desperado, Your Highness. No wonder Eren's avoiding you.'

Jean shot the blond a dark look.

'Fuck you, shorty. Who asked for your goddam opinion?'

Armin dropped the magazine and met Jean's gaze in an open challenge.

'Oh yeah? If I may remind you, I'm the bestie. You're just the _tag_ along. If there’s anyone who should be worried about Eren, it’s me. Okay?'

Marco, donning the assistant's white coat, grew tired of their argument.

'Guys, can we- _uh_ -watch our language in here? We're not exactly alone,' he chided them and directed their attention to the patient.

 _Here_ turned out to be Dr. Kirstein's clinic. They were not alone, because in the hot seat was a boy of eleven years with his mouth fixed to the contraptions of the dentist chair. The boy looked wide-eyed at them, his jaw slack from the effects of anesthesia.

When Micky Halls turned up for his regular dental appointment, he had been hoping for it to be a quick call. You know, cut the formalities and get right to the chase. After all, he had soccer practice to get back to, and another round of Super Mario waiting on his Wii. When he arrived for his appointment, he'd prepared himself for the usual cleaning, drilling and filling… and a bit of harmless flirting with the lovely Dr. Kirstein. Instead, the boy was told that his second molar was on the verge of suicide, that surgery was imperative and before he could even nod (and have his will written out), Micky Halls got carted off into the operation theatre for a full-fledged RCT.

He didn't know what an RCT was. But it sounded like serious business to the eleven-year-old. Mucky but still serious business.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, he now had an audience.

Jean slid off the counter and walked up to his mom’s patient. He crouched before the boy until his face hovered before the petrified child's.

'What's your name?' the ashbrown asked.

The boy gulped. With his mouth numb and euthanized, the eleven year old struggled to speak.

'Nuam... iz Mikay,' he finally managed to say.

'Mia?' Jean interpreted and let out a bark of laughter. 'Tough luck, kid. Way to go with a girl's name.'

The child threw him a dirty look and looked pleadingly at Marco.

The freckled Titan smiled in sympathy. He'd been at the job for not more than a week, and he was already popular with the regulars. To allow him to blend in with the locals, Jean's mother decided to station him as her assistant. Marco, despite being a newcomer (and an extra-terrestrial) with no creds was the most reassuring helper that she'd had in years. He was a hard worker, down-to-earth, and unlike a certain cranky predecessor of his, didn’t demand a raise every hour. Marco picked up the chart from the table and read it.

'His name is Micky. He's in for–' Marco frowned at the chart. '–for a double root canal. What is that?'

Jean chuckled. Turning to Micky, he eyed the rugrat with every hint of malice. 'RCT means junior here is going to get his tooth split open with a crowbar and have his nerve yanked out,' he caught the fear in the boy's face and took relish in it. 'That's right, kid. It's gonna hurt like the devil. Better grab a towel cos' there's gonna be blood EVERYWHERE!'

Micky's eyes widened in horror.

Jean nodded, his demeanor grave. 'Uh huh. I'm not joking. Blood's gonna ooze out of your gums; you won't be able to eat or talk for _weeks_ , little man,' Jean let out a sinister chuckle. 'Believe me, you're gonna be crying for your mommy any time now. And know what? It's just the beginning. When you go to school tomorrow, everybody's gonna call you Toothless. And for the record, I'm not talking about Toothless the dragon.'

Marco caught hold of Jean and pulled him away.

'Alright, I think you've scared him enough!' the taller man admonished him. Though the corners of the Titan's eyes were still crinkled in amusement. He was beginning to understand why Mrs. Kirstein had called Jean 'ill-suited for the dental profession'. Or why the ashbrown peacekeeper never lasted as his mother's assistant.

'Yeah… Don't make fun of unsuspecting kids,' Armin chimed in, still engrossed in reading his journal. 'Plus, aren't we supposed to be worried about Eren?'

At the mention of their absent friend, Jean scowled. He checked his cell but found no messages from the idiot. Jean glared at the screen, but he couldn't will Eren into calling him.

He looked at the others.

'C’mon, guys. Let's get out of this place. Swear to God, I've seen enough root canals to last me a lifetime.'

Marco looked up, startled.

'Huh? But I'm supposed to be _working_.'

Jean smirked and caught Marco's sleeve.

'I'm sure my mom won't miss her little elf. C'mon, Marco. Let’s give you a tour of town.'

 

 

 

 

Slow, he thought.

Too slow.

It was a miracle they were moving at all. Levi watched the windshield in muted silence, resisting the urge to reach over and step on the accelerator. Apparently, this poor excuse of a vehicle worked on gas. He refrained from asking what sort of gas. One glance at the speedometer, and Levi knew that his fart could propel this machine faster.

He voiced the thought aloud. Sans the fart part.

'Can't your vehicle go any faster?' he asked the officer behind the steering wheel.

Hannes turned and gave Levi a dark look. Never in his law enforcement career (a career that spanned more than two decades!) did he meet a person who had the audacity to question a police officer's driving. Until he met Levi, that is.

'Hey. This isn't a taxi,' the officer remarked and pointed to a speed limit sign that passed them. 'And I don't know where you come from, stranger, but we respect road rules here. Haven't you heard the saying? When in Rome, do as the Romans do?'

Levi stared at him.

'What's Rome?' he asked next.

Hannes stared at the visitor, dumbfounded.

'You're… a strange one. I give you that,' Hannes said with a nervous little laugh. 'Which planet did you pop out from?'

Levi smirked but said nothing. Turning back to the view outside, he loped an elbow out the window and sank back against his seat.

'Titan,' he answered, well outside of the man's earshot.

Hannes, the Samaritan of county police, dropped Levi a block away from the university. Levi looked at the shrouded buildings that peaked above the compound. Nestled between a dense thicket, the University of Mechanics looked intimidating… even to someone like the Vigilante. Hannes studied him in quiet wonder. There was something rather off about this man he'd picked up. And Hannes prided himself in his innate ability to read people.

'So, who're you meeting here, stranger?'

To his surprise, Levi wasn't forthcoming with answers.

‘Someone important.’

‘Mm hmm,’ Hannes said, nodding towards the university. 'I know a kid who studies here. Final year. Runt's got a big mouth but he'd be happy to help you.'

Levi shook his head and began walking towards the gates.

'It's fine. You've helped me enough.' he said. 'Besides, it's my turn to find him.'

He'd hardly taken two steps forward when another car pulled up beside him. A red sports sedan with loud music banging from its speakers. A boy with curly hair stuck his head out the window, looking at Levi with faint interest.

'Hey Brian! Travis!' he gestured to his friends wildly. 'Does this guy look familiar to you?'

There was a shared excitement as doors opened and three broad shouldered young men got out. They looked to be the same age as Eren; they even wore the same jersey as Eren used to.

One boy pointed a finger in Levi's face.

'Yeah, you’re right, Hoover,' he trailed snidely. 'Isn't this the guy from the meme? The one Eren was shagging?'

At the mention of that familiar name, Levi looked sharply at them, his gaze sweeping them in scrutiny.

The boy called Hoover let out a guffaw.

'Yeah, that's him alright. Rivaille from Faeger's little fairy party,' he said, sniggering a little. 'Or should I call you, _Fivaille_ , old man? Seriously, dude. How old are you?’

Hoover went quiet when he saw the man sweep past the rest and stride towards him.

'You know Eren?' the man asked him.

The boy snickered, though he was beginning to feel uneasy under that intense stare.

'You're here to meet your boytoy, huh? Sorry, bro, but I don’t play cupid for disgusting faggots like you!'

He saw the tic in the man's face and not knowing better, pushed his luck further. It wasn't the best decision of young Hoover's life.

 

 

 

 

When the boys arrived at the gates of Sylvan University, Armin's bag let out a whimper. Jean and Marco stopped in their tracks, startled. They turned to give Armin's bag a long, searching glance. The blond went rigid.

'What?' Armin asked, sounding every bit defensive. 'What's with that look?'

Jean scowled and pointed an accusing finger at him.

'You tell us. What the hell was that?' the taller boy asked, folding his arms and jutting his chin towards the bag. 'You brought the mutt out, didn't you?'

Armin's spirits deflated a little.

'Look, I didn't want to,' Armin grumbled. 'But he's been going through withdrawal for two whole weeks,' the boy reached back and gave his bag a warning poke until Krobe’s whines subsided into silence. 'I think it's the oil. It's like the stuff here gives him the blues or somethin'.'

Jean examined the bag, giving it a sour look. 'Don't care, man,' he said upon ending his scrutiny. 'Just keep him quiet. You realise that dog's proof of alien technology… and if the NSA gets wind of it,' Jean looked around them, giving a shudder at the very idea.

Marco cleared his throat.

'What about me?' the freckled Titan asked, turning from Armin to Jean. ‘I gather they’d be interested in me too.’

Jean offered a bemused smile to their alien friend.

'Don't worry, UFO dude,' he said, giving Marco a clap on his back. 'Just keep your head down, follow my lead, and you'll be just fine. Too bad security won't let us smuggle you into college. You'd love our library, we’ve got loads of books.'

Marco looked over Jean's shoulder and scanned the entrance to their university. His eyebrows squished together, and growing puzzled, he cleared his throat.

'Security, you say. What _security_ exactly?'

Jean and Armin turned to the university's gates and discovered that Marco was right. There was no security guard manning the gates, nobody from Hound Protection Services. Odd. Downright odd.

And that's when they heard someone holler their names.

'OYE! ARMIN! JEANNN!'

The boys spotted an excited Connie waving at them from behind the gates. Jean and Armin entered their campus with a sense of dread, Marco following them hesitantly.

Connie pointed their attention to a gathering before Main Block.

'Where the hell have you guys been? You gotta see this!' Connie piped.

 

 

 

 

 

 

'Guys, are you seeing what I'm seeing?' Armin asked the others. But they seemed just as confounded as him.

'Someone, pinch me,' said Jean, scowling at the sight before them.

'Can I _punch_ you instead?' asked Connie, grinning wide at the prospect.

Connie's 'this' turned out to be a spectacle never seen before. Someone had scaled up the building to the statue of Blackwell Xavier (the scholarly patron of Sylvan University) and the climber hung by the aid of cables whirring and rattling above his head, hooked to the roof. The scene was like something out of X-Factor or a Hollywood movie set. Except this was a man who by all rights did not belong in their world, much less in their alma mater. In his hand, the deviant of space-time held a figure, writhing in fright. Like a mischievous cub being held by its nape.

'PUT ME DOWN, YOU FAGGOT!' yelled Hoover, fighting back against the hand that held his hoodie.

But all of Hoover's protests fell on deaf ears. The Vigilante's face was hard as steel, and he showed no intention of releasing the boy.

'WHO DO YOU THINK MY DAD IS?' demanded Hoover, kicking his legs wildly in air. 'I swear I'll get you put away for good, you crazy ass motherfucker!' the curly haired final year student looked down at the crowd below him. 'SECURITY! SECURITY! What the hell are you guys doing?'

Hoover's captor smirked, and Armin could have recognised that sadistic smile from anywhere. If he had doubts before, Armin was now completely certain who this man was. He wasn't the only one who’d recognised the guest. Armin detected a restless dog in his backpack, straining to get out.

'You sure you want to be mouthing off up here?' Levi asked the youngster, his voice sounding more than a little annoyed. 'My hand might slip, shithead. If you want to crack your skull on the pavement, be my guest. Keep running that vile little mouth of yours, and I'll grant you your death wish!'

And to emphasize his point, the Vigilante let the fabric of the hood slip a little.

Hoover, dangling closer to his death, changed his mind.

'OKAY! OKAY! S–Sorry. Don't... Please don't drop me,' he let out a whimper at the dizzying drop below him. 'Please! And I didn't mean to call you a faggot, I swear!'

The Vigilante watched the boy, giving him a long hard stare before letting out an appreciative whistle.

'Much better,' Levi remarked. 'But you didn't answer my question, craphead.'

Hoover went blue in the face, choking.

'Are you for real? Look, I _told_ you! I don't know where he is. Ask his fucking pals!'

Levi gave the boy a pained expression before peering down at the shocked crowd below. That's when he spotted familiar faces in the gathering.

There was a collective gasp as Levi tossed Hoover to the closest balcony, slam dunking him in with ease. The boys on the ground watched agape as the hanging man adjusted his gear and scaled down the building, all with the aid of screeching cables and his quick feet. He landed gracefully on the concrete and without losing his breath, the Vigilante walked over to them.

It was Connie’s turn to look petrified. He pulled Armin's sleeve while taking a fearful step back.

'Yo, Armin,' the bald boy trailed nervously. 'Why is crazy dude walking over to us?'

For once in his life, the saint had no answer.

Levi stopped at their circle and regarded them in silence.

'Where's he?' he grunted impatiently.

No hello's. No hey's. The man's voice was cold, gruff and still carrying its old edge.

Marco was the first to find his voice.

'Good to see you here, Captain,' Marco greeted, managing a smile at his former superior and received a nod in return.

Armin didn't share Marco's sense of enthusiasm. He gawked at the older man, scanning him from head to toe. 'Whoa. Hold on. Aren't you… um… supposed to be terrorising your folks on your planet?'

Levi smirked.

'You know why I’m here.'

Jean cut in irritably. 'Speaking of _here_ , how exactly did you even get _here_?' the ashbrown, sizing the man up with a glare.

'Bathtub,' Levi answered as if that singular word explained everything.

Levi's grey eyes flickered from one face to another, still waiting for their reply.

'So, where’s Eren?' he finally asked.

Jean and Armin exchanged wary glances.

'About that...' the ashbrown trailed, flexing his fingers and rolling them into a fist while Armin folded his arms over his chest. 'I'm not sure we wanna tell you.' Armin nodded fervidly, though he wasn't nearly as valiant enough as Jean to risk looking the Vigilante in the eye. He was plenty brave, but not plenty stupid. 'Amen to that!' he chortled. 'It'd only be fair to return the hospitality you served us, right, Jean?'

'Totes agree with you, shortie,' Jean nodded, narrowing his gaze at the man before them.

Levi gave the two boys a puzzled look.

'What hospitality?'

Armin didn't answer for his cellphone gave a little beep. He took it out and passed a quick glance at his inbox. Speak of the devil, it was a message from Eren. He almost let out a whoop when he read the short text.

 

 

12:24 pm

From: _Eren_

_she woke up, Armin. she woke up_

 

  

The blond buried the cell into the recesses of his vest. He looked up and found Levi still waiting for their answer. 'So, you don't remember?' Armin asked, forcing a straight face. 'It's okay,' he said, sprucing up the collar of his vest. 'From now on, Captain, you'll just have to do what we tell you.'

The Vigilante didn't like the sound of it.

'Like what?'

Armin and Jean exchanged a glance and nodded at each other.

'No biggie. We're not gonna ask for much. You'll just have to learn our names, our _proper_ names,' Armin stressed. 'And do our chores—'

'Chores?' Levi interrupted with a scowl.

Jean agreed, giving the man a smug smile. He rubbed his hands in anticipation.

'Yeah. Like my laundry,' said Jean and flicked his head back at the dormitory behind them. 'Plus, my room needs cleaning too, Captain. How good are you with a vacuum cleaner?'

Armin looped an arm around Jean, milking the cow for what it was worth.

'Yep, you might also want to weed my grandpa's garden while you're at it,' the shortie added, smiling brightly. ‘Quid pro quo, Captain.’

Levi turned to Marco who could only return a nervous smile.

'Don't look at me, sir,' the freckled boy said, siding with his newfound friends. 'Seems like the Earthborns are calling the shots this time.'

 

 

 

 

Lights seared through his vision, but he could deal. It had to be a worse ordeal for her, waking up to all the commotion and excitement. He watched as Dr. Reed shone a penlight into her patient's eyes, checking her pupils. The woman with the long brown hair remained reclined against the bed, her features pallid and bony from her overstay in hospital. But she was awake and able to answer the doctor's questions. A nod. A shake of the head. A second nod. She was starting to look a little confused now from the constant barrage of questions. Before long, her gaze traveled to the glass partition and Carla Jaeger spotted her son standing outside the room. At the sight of Eren, Carla's face broke into a smile.

Eren watched her with baited breath.

He wasn't allowed to talk to her yet. But this would do. Yeah, this would do.

He raised a hand and knocked on the glass, vying for her attention. He didn't even need to try, because Carla was still smiling at him.

'What is it?' she mouthed, looking at her son ardently.

Eren stared long at his mother before pointing to himself and winking.

'Remember me?' he mimed at her playfully.

His words weren’t received for their jest. There was a pained silence. The smile faded from Carla's face; only to be replaced by a forlorn look. He saw her lift a hand and cup one ear.

 _I heard you_ , she mouthed back. _Every word. Loud and clear._

Eren didn't know what to say anymore. He nodded and returned a tearful smile while tapping a fist over his heart.

I missed you, he told her.

 

* * *

 


	104. Desperate Times Call for Desperate Husbands

 

Chapter-104- Desperate Times Call for Desperate Husbands

~.~

 

 

'You done with the grill, sonny?' emerged a voice from the lounge chair, sounding more carefree and hearty than he would have liked. On the bright side (though he had to really squint hard to see a bright side here), the old fruit had stopped breathing down his neck. 'Don't mean to hurry ya,' the greybeard informed him blithely. 'But I got a bridge game with the fellas today. It’s gonna be a busy day, alright,' he announced. Tapping his straw hat, Armin's grandfather gave a wistful sigh. He looked at the door, as if waiting for the bell to ring anytime soon and announce a visitor. 'It being Friday and all, you see. They be arrivin' any minute now. Appreciate yer help and all, but could you hurry up? Can't have you interruptin' us with yer mopper.'

Rivaille Levi watched the fossil pick his nose next.

Right, the visitor thought.

Because that's what he was here for. To crash a party of old timers and kibitzers.

Armin's grandfather yawned and made a gurgling sound from the back of his throat.

'But if you want a prove yerself useful, how handy are you with the plumbing? Those pipes in my room need some lookin'.'

Levi's hands drew to a stop, and he counted to ten in a herculean effort to remember his own anger management lessons. Arlert Senior was turning out to be king of all his pet peeves. A rambling old man with poor hygiene who ought to be knighted to the Order of Lazy Bumhood. He had a feeling that Squeaky knew his vices all too well.

Tch, he grimaced at the slip of tongue.

Armin, not Squeaky, he reminded himself. This won't do; he needed to get their names right. If Eren's friends were intent on testing his patience, he couldn't give them leeway to succeed.

The Corporal alias Vigilante alias sonny... sighed into his scarf and picked away at a stain– a disgusting grease stain that showed no signs of disappearing from the barbecue grill. His hands were soiled with the black of charcoal, and he couldn't get the smell of grease off him. It was funny—if he were to really sit down and think about it— how he'd vanquished mafia lords and syndicate leaders from his turf, but all it took were two kids, two college brats to discover his one true weakness. No doubt he'd underestimated them; he'd underestimated Armin Arlert and Mr. Fuckface with the two-toned haircut. Levi grimaced again.

Reining his mouth was turning out to be yet another herculean task.

Jean, he corrected himself in silence.

Yeah, Jean Kirstein whose laundry ought to be classified 'Hazardous Waste'.

The brats had found his struggles in the Laundromat amusing, their glee uncontained as he separated the colors and the whites and learned to operate the coin-operated machines. Of course, his trials on Earth didn't end with the Laundromat. The brats handed down a manifesto, a manifesto that looked tailor-made to get on his nerves. Granted, he had it coming for a long time.

Which was why, he was here. Playing guest (or slave) to Armin's grandfather, waiting on his every whim and fancy.

As he chipped away at the dirt stain, Levi could imagine Isabel laughing at him.

What goes around, comes around, _hermano_. You should have known better than to pick on them.

And she would be right in every sense of the word.

At the memory of Izzie, nostalgia hit him, bringing with it doubt. Taking a deep breath in, he started to remember the people he'd left behind. Isabel, Farlan, Hunter. How were they faring without him? The rebels, the subpars. Would Erwin be able to lead them through the last lap? Could they negotiate their peace and rebuild Titan?

The Vigilante paused in his cleaning, momentarily distracted by the mossy oaks fencing the Arlert home. He had to give it to the old man. Gramps might be deaf as a doorknob, but the old fart knew how to keep a garden patch. Levi was still learning to tell one shrub apart from the other. Azalea, eggplants, okra by the bushel, gourds, peppers and—

And—

A sigh escaped him.

Ginger.

Eren's ginger.

When Arlert Senior had first pointed it out, Levi approached the plant as if it were precious. With careful fingers, he uprooted the long stem, stripped its yellow flowers from the stalk and sniffed at it. He couldn't comprehend what was so different about ginger. Not until the visitor from Titan trailed down the stalk, discovering the fragrant spice in its golden roots.

The scent was hot and simulating.

He smiled, despite being perplexed by the scent.

So, this was ginger, he'd thought in silence. Iquan didn’t hold a candle to it, to be honest.

Earth never ceased to teach him new things.

The day before, when he'd been weeding the backyard (Point 4 on the brats' manifesto), he'd witnessed yet another phenomenon.

Rain.

Earth's rains.

A thunderstorm had snuck up on the sleepy port town of Sylvan. It rained the entire afternoon, pounding down on the gravel outside and rejuvenating the green in the backyard. Levi, who'd been erstwhile taught to steer clear of acid rains, who’d spent it under awnings and shelters, spent those few precious hours sitting in the grass and doing nothing. For the first time in his life, he didn't need to run for cover, for the first time in hiss life, he didn't need to check the pH levels or worry that the water would burn him. Instead, he watched the clouds like an old man, getting drenched in the showers and savored in the freedom they brought. Levi felt the water soak in through his shirt and drip down his skin; he felt it cleanse him of regret and all his misgivings.

Misgivings because no matter how much he pretended to be in control... of course, there were doubts. He'd come empty-handed to this alien world, leaving every semblance of rank and rancor behind. He'd wiped his history, but was there a future here?

He wasn't sure.

The aftermath of yesterday's rains had left a chill in the air that he could oddly connect with. Armin had called it the tail end of winter... that the next season would be spring and a beauty to look forward to. But the Vigilante wasn't afforded the time to dwell on ginger, rains, seasons, his old friends... or the boy missing from his side.

For Arlert Senior's cracked voice rang out from the lounge chair again.

'You any good with the backscratcher, sonny?' the man hollered this time. 'There's a spot I haven't been able to reach in years.'

Levi's melancholy deepened.

You win some, you lose some.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Armin returned to his grandfather's place for the weekend, he braced himself to face the Vigilante's wrath. He was going to get skewered like shish kebab, no doubt. The two old men (if Armin could get away with calling the Vigilante ‘old’) had to be locking horns right now. He could imagine it as clear as day. His stubborn mule of a grandpa versus Titan's Most Wanted. He hated to think how that fight would end.

When Armin stepped in through the door, he was surprised to find himself relatively safe. No one launched on him with a war cry. No one tried to assault him mid-step. The old house was quiet like a grave, its walls still preserving the secret he'd entrusted to them.

Armin poked his head into the living room.

The hall was empty… but he did note how the cushions had been dusted, how the bingo table had been wiped clean, and how the room didn't have that old people smell Armin hated coming home to. Everything was squeaky clean.

'Heh. Not bad,' said Armin, mimicking the man responsible for this overhaul.

The saint let out a low whistle, marveling at the firepower of his own genius. He knew he couldn't go wrong with cooping Eren's OCD husband at his grandpa's place. It was like hitting two birds with one stone. Genius, absolute genius. Einstein had nothing on him. Armin walked into the adjoining corridor and checked the TV room next. He was pleased to note that his bookshelves had been organized; there was the citrus smell of Lysol everywhere, and even grandpa's treadmill looked spic and span.

However, again, there wasn't a soul around.

Armin rubbed his elbow thoughtfully.

Okay, now he was starting to get worried.

Just a _little_.

The college student skittered down the aisle and peered into the kitchen. And here, at long last, he found his grandfather dozing in his seat at the dining table. Three albums were laid out before him; his grandpa had apparently slept off while thumbing through them, reminiscing old times. Beside the geezer's elbow was an empty cup of tea, drunk to its last drop. And that's when Armin heard the dog— Krobe's happy barks from the backyard.

Ignoring his old man and the fact that even the kitchen had been scrubbed high and dry, Armin tiptoed his way to the netted backdoor. The boy squinted through the net and found his guest at long last. The Vigilante was sitting cross-legged on the back porch, dressed in a loose white shirt over khakis. A teacup sat forgotten beside the man, while Krobe sniffed at the contents eagerly. Barefoot, Levi’s one hand was petting the droid pup while he examined something in his other hand. Armin craned his neck, but he couldn't see what it was.

The blond pushed the door open and slipped out. When he’d stepped out on to the porch, he realised what Levi was looking at. The sight left Armin puzzled.

The hero that his best friend had chased across galaxies, the man who inspired loyalty and fear in his subordinates, who'd bought an entire alien city to a grinding halt— was holding a photograph in his left hand. Something he'd picked out from the scores of embarrassing pictures that Armin's grandpa had shown him.

It was a photograph commemorating a summer camping trip. Yeah, Armin remembered now. It was the trip when he and Eren decided to be wild cavemen and tried surviving the outdoors for three whole nights. And despite being dehydrated and covered with mosquito bites, they did scrape through the ordeal. The photo being a testament of their triumph. Eren, with his one arm looped around Armin's shoulders, was smiling brightly at the camera's timer and shooting the victory sign.

It was strange.

It'd been years… but Eren's smile never did change.

Not even a bit.

It was hard to imagine how the boy could even smile despite all the burdens he carried. Beaming into the camera, the brunet's eyes were lit up, and his lips quirked up in a cross between a grin and a smile that radiated warmth. There were those fierce green orbs as they stared into the lens, only to be captured in memory and time forever. As Armin took the spot beside the older man (not without a little nervousness, Captain was still intimidating with _or_ without the mask) Armin chanced a glance at Eren's guardian.

Armin didn't know why he'd even worried.

For all he knew, he could have done a hula dance right here, and the Vigilante still wouldn't have noticed him.

Because grey eyes remained fixed on the picture.

Or rather, grey eyes remained fixed on the boy with the sunshine smile.

It was the first time that Armin noticed it.

The tenderness in Levi's expression. The man beside Armin resembled the man he'd seen in Eren's Polaroid. With a slight nod, Armin began to understand the reason why his idiotic best friend got himself hitched in the first place. Why Eren never quit chasing his terrifying albeit _extraordinary_ hero.

Yeah, he understood now.

Armin Arlert didn't know what love was. But if he were to go by the look on the Captain's face, if this wasn't love... heck, he didn't know what else it could be.

The blond let out a sigh to announce his presence.

'Okay, fine. I give up,' he said, his shoulders slumping in defeat. 'We all call it quits. You've put up a good fight, Captain, I give you that.'

The older man arched an eyebrow at him.

At Levi's puzzled look, Armin chuckled and tried explaining. 'You see, me and Jean were kinda hoping you'd crack from all the chores we gave you. And trust me, we tried every trick in the book. But this—' Armin called, gesturing to the weeded garden and the house gleaming clean behind them. 'Yeah, _this_ isn't fun... if you aren't even going to threaten me.'

Levi gauged the boy in silence.

'I'm not a violent man,' he said.

Armin gave him a look as if to say 'O really?'.

A frown crossed Levi's features.

'Well, I'm not a violent man by nature,' Levi amended with a sullen smile.

Looking pleased, Armin returned the smile and nodded in agreement.

'Yeah, I get that,' the blond admitted and began to pat his pockets, searching for something. 'But honestly, I can't believe you did everything we asked you to, and you're not even mad at us!' Armin stared at the man beside him. 'So, tell me. What's your secret?'

He caught Levi's lazy smirk.

'My secret?'

Armin nodded earnestly.

Levi gestured to the elder sleeping in the kitchen.

'It's hard to stay angry,' the man confessed, '— when the old fossil keeps showing me pictures of you as a baby. Which reminds me,' Levi trailed as he leaned over to Armin, his voice dropping to a malicious whisper. 'Nice tushie, kid.'

Armin went pale as a sheet of ice. He slapped a hand over his eyes, his ears red with embarrassment. Of all the pictures for Grandpa to show, oh why _oh_ _why_... Making a mental note to confiscate the photos later, Armin brought down his hand and studied his companion in silence.

'Fine. A deal is a deal and I’ll keep my end of the bargain,' Armin relented, rolling his eyes in defeat. Reaching into his half-vest, the college student took out his wallet and leafed through it briskly. Having found what he was looking for, he pulled out a slip of paper and held it out to Levi, urging the man to take it.

'Here you go,' he said.

Levi accepted the parchment and stared at the ticket, not sure what to make of it. But going by the grin on Squeaky's face— correction, _Armin’s_ face— this tiny slip of paper seemed to be the ticket to Shangri-La.

'What's this supposed to be?' he asked the boy.

Armin grinned.

‘A bus ticket.’

‘A bus?' Levi echoed, frowning. 'What does that mean?’

It was Armin's turn to look smug.

'It _means_ —' emphasized the boy. 'You win, Captain. You win.'

 

 

 

 

 

 

First came the warning bell, and he figured he still had time. When the death knell struck again, he gripped his pen harder and kept writing.

_The terms of the nonrelativistic Schrödinger equation can be interpreted as total energy of the system, equal to the system kinetic energy plus the system potential energy. In this respect, it's just the same as—_

'Time's up!' announced the invigilator. 'Pens down, ladies and gentlemen. Yes, that includes _you_ too, Mr. Jaeger!'

A shadow appeared before his desk; Eren recognised those tennis shoes and that outrageous fashion sense. Before Eren could squeeze in a last word to his (already bloated) essay on Schrodinger's equation, the woman grabbed his papers and pulled them away from his grasp.

'Time's up!' she said with a pointed glare this time. 

The peacekeeper didn't agree. It would do us well to remember that the peacekeeper seldom agreed with higher authorities.

'Oh, c'mon,' moaned Eren, getting up from his seat in protest. 'You didn't give me a chance to write in my conclusion. Prof. London won't give me a passing grade unless I write the effing conclusion.'

The woman in the cardigan flinched and then, turned to wag a finger at him. 'LANGUAGE, Mr. Jaeger. Besides, your results are not my problem, young man. Look around you, everyone's left already.'

At her words, Eren gave a glimpse around the test room and realised to his disbelief that she was right. Every one of the test takers was gone. He turned back to the woman, pursuing her to the desk.

'Look,' he began, trying to win her over with reason. 'It's just one line. One friggin' line. It's a killer conclusion. It's the line between PASS and FAIL, the line between a _career_ or me living out on the streets like a hobo. Can you picture that, lady? Me sitting around a fire with other homeless folks, doing weed, all because _you_ wouldn't let me finish my goddam essay? Do you want that on your conscience?'

The woman turned to him, her expression dead-stoic. She didn't seem impressed by his theatrics. 

When that didn't work, Eren chucked reason out the window and went for groveling instead. He clasped his hands together, folding them in prayer.

'Please,' he said, giving a ridiculous bow. 'Just let me jot down my conclusion, and I swear I'll be out of your hair.'

Despite all his pleading, begging and groveling, the invigilator wouldn't let him get a word (or a sentence) in.

A much dejected Eren found himself kicked out of the exam hall. He didn't find his friends save for Connie and Sasha trying to feed each other random soundbites and trivia from their lectures. Eren didn't remember which class they were taking together but from the look of things, the two were going to ace it. Before he could go over to them and inquire about Jean and Armin, he bumped into someone's shoulder and sent papers flying.

'Hey, watch where you're—' Hoover started to say until he spotted Eren and went white like a sheet of ice.

The head of curls froze up, eyes widening in horror.

For a moment, Eren felt the temperature drop to minus ten. Hoover looked like he was stuck between the choice of fleeing for his life or disappearing into the floor.

'What's with you?' Eren asked his peer, puzzled by the reaction. The peacekeeper knelt to pick up Hoover's notes, eyeing the boy suspiciously as he did. 'Cat got your tongue? Not gonna call me _Faeger_ , huh?'

Surprisingly, Hoover didn't.

In fact, the boy seemed tongue-tied and nervous.

Eren stacked the papers together and handed them over to his classmate, but Hoover showed no signs of gratitude. The boy had taken a step back and was looking around as though expecting trouble.

'K–Keep it,' he stammered, refusing the papers. 'D-Don't need them.'

Eren stared at his pale-faced companion, turning flummoxed. 'Wait, _what_?’ Eren asked him. ‘Why the fuck would I need your—' he read the header on the pages and scowled back at the boy. '—your optics notes? I'm not even in that class!'

Hoover scooted back a safe distance and shook his head furiously.

'Don't care, Jaeger. J–Just stay away from m–me. Or I'll g-get a restraining order against you and... and that guy. I swear I will.'

Eren's eyebrows furrowed into a crease.

'Guy? What guy? What’re you talking about?'

But Hoover refused to answer and made no move to retrieve his notes either. He scurried away in fright before Eren could even stop him.

The peacekeeper stared after the boy, looking a little lost.

_What the hell was that all about?_

Now that Eren thought about it… he realised that something strange was going on. Everyone in the test room had been giving him the evil eye ever since he walked in. Even as he walked the stretch of the exam corridor, he found himself at the receiving end of pointed fingers and scandalous whispers, like that time in middle school when someone pinned 'DORK' on the back of his gym shirt. Eren ignored it then. He'd been busy battling his exam demons to pay attention before. But now that he was done slogging through his finals, doubts lingered... especially with the way Hoover ran away. As if Eren were the plague.

_What the heck's going on?_

The peacekeeper looked from Hoover's notes to the comedic duo studying for their tests.

He decided to head their way and ask them about it. Connie and Sasha saw him approach. For one short moment, they greeted him with a cheery smile until they seemed to remember something. Some dark, tragic secret that scored heavier than their affection for him. Without another word, Connie and Sasha picked up their cram notes and bolted.

'HEY!' Eren hollered after them. 'Guys! Where're you going?' he asked, waving at their retreating backs.

But the two fled into the cafeteria and never once looked back.

_Weird. Totally weird._

Eren Jaeger smelled his armpits, wondering if it was the fact that he hadn't showered in two days.

Nope, the deodorant was doing its job.

He didn't have time to dwell on it. Because his cell buzzed, and Eren fished it out to read the message. Thankfully, his best friend wasn't acting strange like the others.

 

* * *

11:24 am

From: Armin

How did the exam go?

What the heck were you writing in there, you doofus? The Declaration of Independence?

 

* * *

 

 

 

Grinning, Eren keyed in a quick reply. He left out the part where the devil lady from invigilator hell didn't cut him any slack. He tapped 'send' and looking around the hallway again, cherished this moment in history when he was finally done with his tests this year. Yes, _all_ of them. _Hallelujah, summer break. Goodbye, school._ Before he could even pocket his phone, his cell vibrated again.

Another message?

 

 

* * *

11:25 am

From: Armin

Don't worry; you'll make the cut, boy wonder.

BTW, got the tickets. Meet us at Io Boulevard. Marco’s coming too!

 

* * *

 

 

Eren smiled and remembered his promise to show Marco around.

 _Sure_ , he texted back. _I'll be there._

 

 

 

 

 

Okay.

There had to be a mistake.

Maybe there was another Io Boulevard in town… or he'd tripped and fallen into another dimension. After all the crazy stuff he'd been through over the years, neither of the two possibilities would surprise him anymore. And yet, there were his friends: Armin, Jean and Marco whispering among themselves as if everything was A-Okay.

Eren stood stumped and turned his attention back to their ride.

To be honest, there was nothing wrong with the 56-passenger luxury coach. There was nothing wrong with the pamphlet that the cheerful guide handed over to him. Eren accepted the glossy brochure grumpily and glared down at it. 'Welcome to Calypso Queen's Scenic Tour', the pamphlet said, and went on to describe what the tour would comprise of. According to the flashy brochure, it was going to be a two-and-a-half-hour bus ride along the coast line. A scenic road trip. Their destination? They'd be visiting Clearwater Aquarium, its beach, a lot of sun, and would finish off the trip with a barbecue buffet. The tour also promised meal gratuity, complimentary beer, rum punch and soda. Nope, nothing wrong with any of that.

What was wrong was the fact that ALL of the fifty odd passengers of Calypso Queen looked like they'd just stepped out of a retirement home.

Armin spotted him and waved his arms to get Eren's attention. The blond was dressed smart in his half vest and long crimson shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Dressed a little too smart for the occasion, Eren noted wryly. So were Marco and Jean, in their matching jerkins which Eren suspected were from the same wardrobe. It just wasn't fair... especially since Eren had to make do with the only set of clothes he could salvage from his dorm room. His capri, a black tee and another pair of worn Nikes.

'You're late!' Armin squawked when the peacekeeper joined their little huddle.

Eren couldn't steer his eyes away from the bus.

'Uh, Armin,' he trailed, tugging at his best friend's sleeve. The brunet pointed Armin's attention to their ride. 'You mind explaining what the heck is that?' Eren asked, gesturing to their bus with a scowl.

There was a long, drawn silence until Armin returned a blank look.

'Mm hmm. It's a bus,' illuminated the saint, wondering what all the fuss was about.

Eren glowered back at his best friend.

There were times when Armin Arlert was just asking to be strangled. This was indeed one of those times.

'Duh, I can see it's a bus,' griped the young keeper before pointing to the elderly inside. 'But care explaining why we're gonna be hitchhiking with your grandpa's bingo party?'

Armin stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked up at Eren, nonplussed. 'You ask why? Because they had five empty seats. The tour operators were offering a steal discount, and money doesn't grow on trees, pal. With a killer deal like this, I couldn't let the chance slip by. It’s dirt cheap.'

Eren stared incredulously at his best friend before turning to Marco and Jean who, for some strange reason, were struggling to keep a straight face.

Eren looked at them suspiciously. 'You let him get away with this?' he asked and pointed furiously at Jean. 'How the hell did _you_ agree to this, Mr High Maintenance?’

Jean shrugged and looked over Eren's shoulder to glance at the tour bus.

'Oh, you know me,' the ashbrown said, giving a vain little smile. 'I dig... old people.'

Eren cocked up an eyebrow, looking unconvinced.

'Since when?'

Eren's rebuke went unheard as their friendly guide blew her whistle and ushered them in. 'Time to leave, gentlemen,' she chirped, holding the door open to allow them a wide berth.

The former peacekeeper watched his friends shuffle inside and reluctantly, he too followed suit. Muttering under his breath, he boarded the bus, climbed up the front steps and emerged onto the deck. It was here that he realised that all eyes were glued to him. Like he was the star attraction. Weird, totally weird, he thought for the second time that day. He watched as Jean and Marco occupied the seats in the front row while Armin sat down next to his snoring grandpa, leaving Eren irrevocably alone, standing and very confused.

Armin smiled apologetically and directed Eren's attention to the back of the bus.

'Sorry, buddy,' the boy chimed. 'But we could only save you the seat over there.'

'Over _there?'_ Eren echoed, not liking the sound of that.

And it was with good reason.

His sense of dread deepened. He found 'over there', and Eren Jaeger didn't like it one bit. Far far away, at the very rear of the bus, he found the empty aisle seat next to a veteran, a man immersed in reading the Times.

The brunet turned back to Armin.

'You're kidding me, right?' Eren asked, hoping his friends were just pulling his leg. 'You can’t be serious. You can't dump me at the back of the bus. Who am I gonna talk to for the next two hours?'

Armin was all smiles though his fierce expression meant business. The shorter boy shrugged. 'Hey, don't go blaming me. It's not my fault you were late.'

Eren let out a low growl. 'Fine...Whatever,' he grumbled. 'You owe me,' he said and staggered past the front rows, lugging his duffel bag behind him. Muttering furiously under his breath about having traitors and backstabbers for friends, Eren stashed his bag into an overhead compartment, slammed it close (much to the disgruntlement of the old folks around him) and flopped down into the _'over there'_ seat. He noticed the elderly couple on his right smiling sweetly at him, through their dentures and all.

Yeah, he was digging this trip already.

But Eren was polite, and he returned a begrudging smile to the couple.

And thus, with everyone settled, Calypso Queen's Scenic Bus Tour embarked on its journey for the ocean.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Free Wi-Fi.

Air-conditioning.

A plasma TV showing one of his favorite movies 'The Amazing Spiderman' and despite all the entertainment, every senior citizen on the bus dozed off as soon as the engine thrummed to life. Figured. It was as if someone had slapped a magical switch to slumber land. Yeah, this was so going to be the trip of his lifetime. He was living the dream alright, he reckoned.

For a tour promising a scenic ride through the coast, with blue waters, white sands and surfer waves, Eren Jaeger was getting none of it. Literally, zilch. And how would he... when his elderly companion was still engrossed with the Times, blocking any glimpse of the scenery.

Eren cleared his throat and turned to the man behind the newspaper. Eren tapped the picture of a disgraced senator.

'Excuse me, you mind?' he asked the old gent beside him, trying his best to be polite.

But his fellow passenger showed no signs of emerging out of his paper cocoon. Plus, the man seemed to be short of hearing. Curious, the brunet raised his head and peered over the edges of the paper. But all he could make out was the top of a beret.

Eren's shoulders sagged, and he sank in his seat.

The last thing he needed was to get into a quarrel over territorial rights with a stranger. Okay, it was cool. He didn't have to let this bother him. He could be the bigger man. Sure, he could do without the window. Yeah, screw scenery. Screw Calypso too. He'll just... watch old people snore instead. That oughta be entertaining.

And so, Eren decided to keep his head down. He fished out his phone and set the music to his last playlist. He plugged his ears and glared at the newspaper dude, hoping the window usurper could somehow sense his discontent.

When nothing happened, the young man gave up the ploy and sank back into his seat.

His anger lasted fifteen minutes before Eren felt the effects of the long day take a toll on him. He remembered how he'd crammed for his finals the night before. He remembered how he'd made eighteen trips to the hospital in the last week. And he remembered how he was tired... yes, still very much tired, world-weary and most of all...

Heartbroken.

Heartbroken and sleepy.

His headphones slipped from his ears and in the absence of AC/DC banging away to heavy metal, his head lolled to the side. He didn't know if sleep was infectious. Nor did he know why gravity always pulled your head to the person next to you. But soon, Eren felt the crinkle of the paper and the comfort of a shoulder against his heavy head. A thought at the back of his mind... told him to wake up. But he keeled. If he'd been awake, if he'd put up a better fight against the sandman, Eren Jaeger would have realised how the figure next to him had gone completely still.

But sleepy as he was, he didn't notice it.

Nor did he notice the gloved hand that came up to ruffle his hair.

Instead, he was dreaming again.

Eren found himself sitting in the corridor of his subconscious. The hallway was empty, and Eren wasn't sure if it was a good sign. The doors were gone— all twelve of them. Or was it sixteen? Twenty? He couldn't tell anymore. But the walls were still grey as he last remembered, the lights of the corridor lambent, mirroring his turbulent feelings. His mother wasn't calling for him this time. Nor was that guy anywhere to be found— the masked man who'd haunted Eren so many times before.

The peacekeeper smiled when he spotted something on the floor.

Though he was long gone, the Vigilante had left something in his wake.

A damning piece of evidence, perhaps to remind Eren of his existence. Proof that none of Eren's memories were a lie, like the world wanted him to believe.

Eren sat down on the floor and picked up the memento.

The inkblot mask of his hero.

That was all he had.

A crumpled mask, worn for tear.

Eren watched the pattern swirl, dots and splotches of ink moving over a white terrain. He ran his fingers over the fabric and broke into a reluctant smile.

 _You've messed me up bad, y’know,_ he said into the silence.

The mask didn't answer, but Eren could imagine what the reply would have been. The war was over; the fight had left him... and the words were now easier to find. Words Eren couldn't say back then. Words he wanted to speak now, but there was nobody to hear them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

While his grandfather snored beside him, Armin peeped above his headrest, giving a furtive look at the back of the bus.

'Okay, guys,' he whispered in a military voice over. 'Operation Clearwater is in progress and running along smoothly. Target is secure and uncompromised. He doesn't have a clue. And I'm willing to bet twenty bucks he's not gonna find out till we reach our destination. Anybody game?'

Marco, who'd been reading Samuel Beckett's 'Molloy', put the book down and laughed, deciding to play along. 'I agree but I won't bet that far, Armin. Eren's dense but he can’t be _that_ dense,' said the freckled Titan, though his voice sounded hopeful.

They turned to Jean next, who surprisingly didn't have an opinion in the debate. Nor willing to up the stake.

The usually loud-mouthed Jean Kirstein, the arrogant kibitzer, had been looking sullen ever since the bus started. The ashbrown had scorned the Spiderman movie (Andrew Garfield wasn't really his favorite, then again, nor was Tobey McGuire but that's another story); he'd scorned at the scenery outside the window (Pfft. Sailboats and blue waters, what else is new!) and finally settled down to scorn at his shoelaces. It was a bleak day for humanity, and it was a bleak day for Jean Kirstein.

Marco watched his companion in concern.

'Are you alright?' he asked the dentist's son.

Armin snorted from behind them.

'Oh, don't mind him, Marco,' the blond supplied. 'He's just a little sore that Missing Husband is winning and not him.'

Armin ducked before Jean could thwack his head.

'Screw you, shortie,' mumbled Jean out of the corner of his mouth as he settled back into his seat and gave Calypso Queen's brochure another wretched glance.

Yep.

He could so do with a beer right now.

When Marco tapped his shoulder, Jean looked up and shot him a questioning look.

'Seems like you've earned yourself a fan,' said Marco as he pointed Jean's attention to their neighbors. Jean turned and discovered what he meant. A short, frail woman who looked like she'd finished her forty years of service at the Public Library was staring at him, smiling rather creepily with a mouth full of yellow teeth.

Jean shrank back.

Clearing his throat, he managed a smile.

'Uh, I dig old people. But not in the way you think, okay?'

 

 

 

 

 

When Eren stirred to wakefulness, it was to the sound of Joss Stone on the bus radio. The Amazing Spiderman had apparently lost to a rendition of 'The Love We Had'. The senior citizen club was up and awake from their afternoon siesta and were now singing along to Stone's soulful voice and tapping their feet to the beats.

Of course, not everyone. Some held their reservations. Like the black woman in the seat before him, who was all talk and quiver while her Hispanic companion nodded and interjected with a few hmm's , ah's and 'sí, sí's.

'...so I said, Bonnie, you call this blues? Honey, you must have wax clogging up your ears cos you ain't heard Charlie Parker, have ya? Now, Charlie is blues,' she gave a vehement nod and wiggled her shoulders for emphasis. 'The kinda blues that moves your soul, and you feel the beats in your skin! Nows a days, it's commercial. Everything is commercial. Music, art, movies. I tell you, Regina, I tell you… the world's in a bad place now. We've fallen into the wrong sort, mm hmm. Where are the role models? Who do kids look up to these days? That white duckling Miley Cyrus? Or the Bieber boy? And I told Bonnie. Back in 1962, love was in the music, hun. Music had soul. We folks had our hearts in the right place back then. Now a days, folks are just confused, hun.'

Eren smiled, despite himself.

Amen to that.

He began to realise that being stuck with these old crones was not too bad.

Eren sat upright and decided to splurge the free Wi-Fi for what it was worth. He found his earphones again and plugged them into his ears. He'd been tapping his foot to Red Hot Chilli Peppers' Californication when Eren felt a fervent gaze on him.

The peacekeeper hesitated and passed a glance in the direction of his companion.

Odd enough, the newspaper was still up. And if he wasn't wrong, stuck to the same page.

Twice, the elderly gent in the seat behind them (Bob Brentworth, being his name) turned and asked for The Times. On both instances, he'd been refused with a shooing gesture from a gloved hand.

'That's rude!' Bob chided, looking mortally offended at Eren’s seatmate. 'I don't know where you come from, bloke, but that's rude in my books! Why are you being so stingy with the paper?'

But the newspaper dude showed no signs of remorse.

Defeated, Bob turned to the window, grumbling under his breath about how he'd wanted to read the funnies and nothing more.

Bob Brentworth might have given up, but not Eren.

The peacekeeper took out his cell and shot a quick text to the saint.

 

 

* * *

04:06 pm

From: Eren

Psst. Arminnnn!

 

* * *

04:07 pm

From: Armin

Whaaaat?

 

* * *

04:08 pm

From: Eren

there's something weird going on with the guy next to me

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Odd enough, there was a pause on the other end, and his bestie's reply didn't come quick. Armin took his own sweet time to answer, and Eren could hear his band of friends breaking into snickers. Before he could crane his neck sideways and find out what was so funny, Eren's cell buzzed again.

 

* * *

 04:12 pm

From: Armin

You're being paranoid like usual.

 

* * *

04:12 pm

From: Eren

No, I'm serious! Old man's been on the same page since we started. 

 

* * *

04:14 pm

From: Armin

Maybe he’s on his happy pills or somethin'. He could have dozed off while reading.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Reading the message one last time, Eren pocketed his cell.

Okay, that could be a plausible reason.

Yet, the gloved hand holding up the pages looked alert and awake. Eren decided to set his doubts aside and settled back into his seat again. He began playing Angry Birds on mute, aiming his motley of virtual birds at devious little pigs and that's when he felt a slight movement beside him. And lo, behold, a gloved hand came to rest on his knee.

Eren froze, his game of Angry Birds all forgotten.

Because that couldn't be a hand massaging his kneecap, could it?

 _No, no, no_ — _this can’t be happening._

The young man let out a hiss and sat up straight. 

'Okay, dude,' he said in a whisper to the man beside him, scanning the crowd around them warily. The chatter continued, and no one seemed to have noticed the jarring movement. 'Look,' he said, trying to stay calm. 'I'm gonna pretend you mistook my knee for a cane. Cos' FYI, it isn’t!'

There was no answer nor did an apology ensue. The hand had come to a stop but made no move to leave its cozy spot.

Eren glared at the newspaper fiend, ignoring the headlines thrust into his face. The college student wasn't quite in the mood for the usual debate on Obamacare. He didn't care if it was driving the fiscal deficit up or down, but he was indeed concerned about the hand on his knee, which seemed to be moving again.

'Seriously, grandpa,' he snarled a little louder this time. 'Aren't you a little too _old_ for this?'

Again, there were no apologies. Maybe the man was kooky in the head. The gloved hand stayed where it was. Eren looked around, hoping to spot someone he could exchange seats with. His neighbors on the right were still smiling at him unnervingly. They looked down at the hand on his knee and nodded sweetly as if they understood all.

Eren balked at the very idea.

'Whoa. I swear to God,' he told them, looking mortified. 'This isn't what it looks like.'

Yet, even as he spoke, the hand began trailing a path upwards.

'O–kaaay, dude, no handsies,' squawked Eren, pulling his leg viciously out of the man's grasp and clambering to the edge of the aisle. Eren scooted away until he was half leaning out of his seat. He groped for his cell and shot a quick text to his best friend.

 

 

* * *

 04:34 pm

From: Eren

Okay, buddy! News flash! Old lecher sitting next to me wants some arm candy. Get someone to swap seats with me! Or I'm warning you, things might get ugly here.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The gloved hand returned to first base, copping a generous feel of his thigh.

Eren scowled and hitting backspace, edited his new message.

'On second thoughts, I want to punch him. Hard!' he wrote.

Strange enough, Armin never replied.

Instead, someone tugged the red cord and the bus drew to a jarring stop. Eren's attention drew to the front when he heard Armin's voice urging 'GO! GO! GO!'. The peacekeeper peered over the seats and spotted his friends standing up and getting their bags in a mad hurry to leave. It struck him suddenly… that they were leaving the bus. Yes. There was no doubt about it. His best buds were abandoning him.

'Hey! HEY!' Eren called after them in shock. 'Guys! Whoa! Where do you think you're going— Wait! God damn it, hold up!'

Jean, Marco and Armin climbed down the deck without so much as a glance back. The brunet saw the doors close behind them and the final click of a lock spurred him into action. Not one to be left behind, Eren got to his feet in a hurry and jerked open the overhead compartment to yank out his duffel bag.

Before he could dash after his friends, someone caught his wrist, and Eren stumbled in his steps.

It was the lecher.

'Let go—'

Eren turned to give the old man a piece of his mind. But words failed him here. Furious green eyes met cool languid grey. Eren didn't know when the beret had been cast aside and when the newspaper had come down. He'd never even heard the pages rustle as they dropped to the floor. But there it was now— lying on the floor, revealing the face it had withheld for so long.

A face he thought he'd never see again.

Eren stared wordlessly, mouth agape, his breath hitching up in his throat.

Perhaps Dr. Reed was right. Maybe he _was_ going crazy. 

'Let go… of me,' he finished in a hollow voice.

Eren's guardian watched him long and with a shake of his head, declined the boy's request. Dressed in a camo sweatshirt, a pull-over woolen jacket and dark chinos, Levi held on to Eren's wrist resolutely. Levi's vice like grip tightened if it were possible. Grey eyes began to lose any semblance of composure, giving away to steel-like-determination that was more of Eren's trademark quality than his.

'Not this time,' Levi vowed in the silence.

The peacekeeper stood lost and frozen in a daze. But those words, that voice, the grip on his wrist and the revving of the engine broke his trance. With a grunt, Eren jerked his arm free and taking two steps back, he turned and bolted for the exit.

'Eren.'

There was that voice again.

_No, no, no-_

_Why?_

_How?_

Eren Jaeger didn't look back. Not again. He squeezed past his perplexed tour guide— a woman who looked markedly annoyed by these constant interruptions— and he darted for the bus door. But Calypso Queen was on the move again, her driver cranky and miffed.

Well, so was Eren Jaeger.

'Stop the bus!' he urged the driver, dimly aware of the commotion at the back. He could hear curses as Levi scrambled out of his seat in a bid to chase him. Eren could hear the scandalized whispers; the old folks were looking shocked at the events unfolding amidst them. Clearly, no one had expected so much excitement and adrenaline on a trip to the beach. And no one seemed to be complaining. Eren turned to the driver and hissed. 'Stop the bus right NOW!' he pleaded urgently, though his fierce green eyes were speaking a different language altogether.

The driver of Calpso Queen scoffed, looking at Eren incredulously as if he’d sprouted another head.

'Are you nuts, kid? You mad? We are in the middle of one-way traffic. If I pull here–'

'STOP THE BUS OR I'll FUCKING JUMP!'

The driver swerved to the curb and hit the brakes hard, spewing out a string of expletives.

To the surprise of everyone, Eren Jaeger could make a persuasive argument.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Okay.

In all the scenarios he'd envisaged in his mind, this wasn't the way he'd expected it to pan out. Levi had expected the sun to embrace him in warmth and to kiss him passionately. Or worse, kick him in the shins and never let him hear the end of it. Instead, the kid was running away from him. Quite literally.

Sure, Levi granted, he wasn't going to win an award for the Universe's Best Husband. He'd broken Eren's heart on more than one occasion. He'd lied, threatened Eren, pretended he was someone else, and made the ward's decisions for him. With good reason but try explaining that to his volatile husband.

But this, yes, _this_ was utterly ridiculous.

Eren didn't wait for the wheels to stop turning before making a leap onto the sidewalk. He landed on his feet on a run and began to scamper away… the minute Levi stepped out of the bus.

As if he were a ghost.

'Eren!' Levi called.

The younger didn't stop. In the distance, Levi could see a cab stopping and those three notorious friends of Eren emerging from inside. Jean, Marco and Armin kept a safe distance, deciding to watch the spectacle unfold rather than take part in it. God forbid, they made the right choice.

Eren showed no signs of slowing down… and Levi, at his own end, felt the wind knocked out of him. He still had to come to terms with Earth’s air— its luscious supply of oxygen— and gravity.  

'Eren! Will you fucking stop?' he urged.

The boy didn't answer but thankfully he did stop.

About time.

Levi groaned, and he doubled over, blowing out harshly.

Eren turned around and watched his guardian breathlessly. His eyed were wide, and he sucked in a quick breath before launching into a torrent of questions. 

'Why... how…?' he said, before scowling and giving up in his lame quest to find the right words to ask. The boy threw his hands up in defeat as he looked at Levi, staring at the man in disbelief. 'What are you even doing _here_?'

Levi let out a grunt. He looked around them and sighed. Calypso Queen never reached the beach, but he could already smell the salt in the air and the scent of the sea. He turned back to the younger, giving Eren a churlish smile.

'Chasing you. What does it look like I'm doing?'

The peacekeeper narrowed his gaze and stared, his anger mounting.  

'Oh yeah?' the brunet challenged, shaking his head in mutiny and let out a skeptical laugh. 'Well, that's too bad cos' I just got over you, pal. I can't go back...' he paused, pressing his eyes shut for a moment and felt his jaw clench. 'I can't go back to… to everything,' he muttered in anguish.

He turned his back to Levi and hauling his duffel bag over one shoulder, Eren walked away with a limp, scowling hard at the world in general.

The smile on Levi's lips unfurled as he watched his ward stomp off.

'You got over me?' Levi echoed. 'Is that the truth, trooper? You got over your own fucking husband? You sure about that?'

At those words, Eren stopped in his tracks and whirled around to glare at the older man.

'Are you for real?' he growled in disbelief. 'I'm _not_ your trooper! You are _not_ my superior here! Get it? This is my world, sir, and I don't know what you're doing here but it's over. Get it? O.V.E.R!' Eren emphasized, shaking his head furiously. 'I'm done! And if you still think you're my husband, you can BITE ME!'

Levi considered Eren for a long moment and shook his head as if disagreeing.

'You're right that you’re not my soldier here. You don't have to follow my orders anymore. However, I'm still and will always be—'

Eren cupped his ears and glared at the man, letting out a guttural sound in warning.

'Fuck you,’ he snapped tartly. ‘Don't you _dare_ say it! By law of this world, I'm single! A free bird!’ Eren stressed unduly on that last part. ‘You know what? I'm gonna go to Vegas and hook up with someone just to effing prove it!'

Levi refrained from asking what Vegas was. It didn't seem like the right moment for a cultural lesson. Perhaps, Vegas was a government bureau like Titan's Department of Civil Union Registry and Matrimonial Alliances.

The Vigilante looked at Eren and gave the boy a genuine smile.

'If you're single, we can fix that,' he offered,

Levi reached into his jacket and took them out. He held them out on his palm for Eren to see.

Two silver bands glinted in the evening light. For one short moment, the noises of lane traffic ceased. They couldn't hear the hoots and whispers in the background either. Even the sea breeze fell silent, afraid to disturb this pivotal moment of their lives.

Levi's mirth was gone, replaced by a hard expression— grim and serious. 

'Marry me,' was all he said. 'Again,' he urged in an even quieter tone, almost pleading.

Eren watched the rings, his face going blank before he pressed his eyes shut again at the sight of the silver bands. As if the mere sight of them would undo him. What was he thinking, Levi wondered and here Levi's misgivings returned, making him wonder if it was a futile cause. Was he too late? Was there no going back?

'Oh yeah?' the young man asked, letting out a brittle laugh that seemed to rack through his lungs. 'Give me one good reason why I'd be stupid enough to do it over again.'

There was a long, hard silence.

'Reason, huh?' Levi asked, contemplating and accepting the challenge. 

The older man didn't say anything. Instead, he folded his fist around the rings, caught his ears and prepared himself for the lunge. He took a deep breath in. And that's when Eren saw a sight he'd never seen before. His superior, his hero, his guardian— began to do squats, counting them as he went.

'One,' Levi announced loudly, so that everyone in the one-mile radius could hear him. Loud and clear, no inhibitions of any sort. 'You should marry me because all I've done for the last one week is scrub tiles, laundry, and given an old man a sponge bath... all for your precious little friends.'

Eren stared at him in shock before turning to the sidelines. Jean and Armin ducked behind the cab door, removing themselves out of the line of fire.

Levi resumed, going down on his knees again. 

'Two!' he barked out loud. 'Because no one likes nibbling on your nipples as much as I do. That’s a _fact.'_

The peacekeeper folded his arms in mortification, drawing himself thin. A much embarrassed Eren watched the older man go down for the next squat.

'Three. Being your guardian was an honor, kid. I'll do it a hundred times over because no one's more prouder of you than me,' Levi nodded to him, holding Eren's gaze with his determined grey eyes. 'You might be a troublemaker, but you’re also my _best_ soldier. You said you wanted to carry and protect me, remember?’ Levi let out a soft chuckle and gave the boy a wink. ‘Guess what, Eren Jaeger? You proved your oath time and again.'

The peacekeeper felt a knot tighten in his throat. He remained rooted to his spot with his fists clenched against his elbows. A part of him was humbled by Levi's public declaration; another part of him wondered just how far was his guardian willing to go. 

At Eren's reluctance to give in, the Vigilante wasn't discouraged and pressed on. Levi let slip a smile and crouched again, bending his knees with an audible tic. When he rose, he was still smiling and still clutching his ear lobes.

'Four,' he announced and nodded to Eren, his demeanor turning serious all of a sudden. 'You are the light of my life, sunshine. It’s the truth. The _whole_ truth.'

Shaking his head at this confession, Eren brought up a hand and pressed it over his eyes. He couldn't hold them back anymore; long pent-up tears began streaming down his face.

The squats didn't stop; the reasons kept coming too. 

'Five. Because I'll give you everything I can give and take what I can take. That's who you are and that's who I am.'

The man went down again.

'Six,' he said, grey eyes never straying from Eren's face. His next words made the ice thaw, and the walls between them finally came crumbling down. 'I love you, Eren,' Levi said to him, grey eyes gleaming. 'And I don't think I can stop feeling that way either.'

He squatted again and rose.

'Seven...'

But Eren didn't let him finish. He blinked back his tears and gave up the charade of being angry. He dumped his duffel bag to the ground and stormed back to that douche of a husband, tackling him down with force. As for the rings, he wrenched them out of Levi's fist and wore his silently, without saying a word.

Levi looked at him in faint surprise.

'Just so you know-- I've got ninety-four more to go,' confided Levi, arching an eyebrow up.

'It's cool,' said Eren, his throaty voice wavering from the tension built between them. He drew Levi's hand out, holding the pale hand tenderly between his own fingers and slipped the other ring on. 'You can keep them to yourself. Just marry me already before I change my mind.'

Levi couldn't say no to that and allowed Eren to kiss him hard on the mouth, relishing in the taste of sweat and tears. It was an abrasive open-mouthed kiss, but the brat’s hands remained gentle as they cradled Levi’s head. A thumb caressed his cheek in gratitude and in fervor, setting off a tingling in his nerves and made Levi realize just how much he’d missed this.  

They pulled apart a little to take in shallow breaths to replenish themselves, eyes never leaving the other. And that’s when they heard applause breaking out and found the senior citizens sticking their heads out of Calypso Queen's windows, cheering them on.

'What's... with them?' grunted Levi, not sure what to make of their audience.

Eren chuckled as he leaned in, kissing the bridge of the older man's nose.

'Welcome to Earth,' said Eren. 'Home of the zany and the weird,' he drew back and bumped their foreheads together. 'Welcome home, sweetheart.'

 

 

 

 

 

_Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself,_

_to the stranger who has loved you all your life,_

_whom you ignored for another,_

_who knows you by heart._

_Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,_

_The photographs, the desperate notes,_

_Peel your own image from the mirror._

_Sit. Feast on your life._

Love after Love, Derek Walcott

* * *

 


	105. Epilogue

 

 

Epilogue

~.~

 

 

After three consecutive night shifts and an Ebola false alarm that her ill-equipped hospital did not need, Nurse Robbins couldn't be blamed for being in a particularly vindictive mood. Her underlings were not the professional gofers she could order around; she'd gotten into an argument twice with the Chief of Medicine on how Stanley Memorial required more hazmat suits, a revamp of the emergency unit and most importantly, a 'PROHIBITION' sign against a certain green-eyed interloper. Eren Jaeger, with his penchant for sneaking past nurses and breaking into his mom's room, did not figure high on Nurse Robbins' list of most favorite people in the world. Though to anyone who knew this grumpy nurse, it was remarkable that she even had a list of favorite people.

Nurse Robbins fluffed the pillow behind Carla's head and tapped the IV line.

'Your son, Mrs. Jaeger,' the nurse began with a world weary sigh, '–is a character, alright. A character,' she emphasized. 'Visiting hours mean nothing to that boy, nuh uh. You know what us scrubs call someone like him? A PITA! And that's what he is. Grade A PITA!'

She refrained from expanding the abbreviation, but Carla had spent enough time in the hospital to know what it was.

Nurse Robbins wasn't done complaining. Not by a long shot.

She scowled as she read the time on the wall-clock. It was going to be 9 am soon, which meant her Band-Aid hospital was going to throw open its doors to visitors. And Robbins was willing to bet who'd be waiting first in line. 'Do you know the stuff he badgers me with, everyday? I don't think my mom is getting enough fluids; you might want to check on that. Why don't you answer the call light as fast as they did in intensive care? Are these meds approved by the FDA? Hey lady, you're ignoring me on purpose, aren't you?' A smile escaped Carla. Nurse Robbins's impersonation of her son, she had to admit, was spot on.

The caregiver placed her hands on her hips and let out a pained sigh. 'And when your son doesn't doubt my methods and experience, he has the nerve to ask me why I never became a doctor and if med school sounded too hard back in '83?' she squinted at Carla and let out a scoff. 'Trust me when I say this, Mrs. Jaeger… In my twenty five years of service as a Registered Nurse, I have never EVER seen a character like that boy of yours.'

Carla gave the nurse a rueful smile.

'He's been giving you trouble, hasn't he?' the woman asked, as she sank back against the pillow. 'I'm so very sorry. He gets carried away sometimes. I'll talk to him.'

The stout nurse gave a snort, as if talking could do no better. She took Carla's hand, strapping the IV drip on to her wrist. Nurse Robbins gave her patient a withered looking smile. 'It's alright,' she finally said. 'I admit part of the reason I'm miffed is because I'm a little jealous here. I doubt Clifford would ever go the lengths your son does. Heck, my husband wouldn't bat an eye if I were in a coma. That couch potato would be relieved to be rid of his nagging wife, I bet.'

Carla smiled and watched her take the remote to adjust the thermostat. But before Nurse Robbins could pull away, she grabbed hold of the woman's hand and squeezed it.

'Thank you, Robbins,' Carla said to her in gratitude. 'For taking care of me all these years. I know it hasn't been easy.'

Nurse Robbins pursed her lips and said nothing at first. Nodding, the matron gave Carla's fingers a pat.

'You want to thank me, Mrs. Jaeger?' the nurse asked, a challenge evident in her tone. 'Then, get well soon so we can visit your little garden again. Those roses need some pruning and I can't think of a better person than you to do it.'

Smoothing down her scrubs, the nurse checked the chart one last time. When Nurse Robbins seemed adequately satisfied with the readings, she turned and made to leave. Having grabbed her clipboard, she walked to the door and drew it open. Carla heard the woman utter a small 'oh'.

She looked over the nurse's shoulder and noticed a shadow at the entrance to her room.

'Well… how about that,' Nurse Robbins quipped as she stepped aside and pointed Carla's attention to the visitor. 'Looks like the garden's come to you, Mrs. Jaeger. And my, oh my… those are some pretty flowers, mister.'

Carla saw what she meant.

At first, all she could see was a bouquet of Ard Rovers, their pleasant smell wafting into her room. It was a welcome scent, like a breath of fresh air from the outside world. More than twenty long-stemmed roses were held in awkward arms, hands paralysed between the fear of crushing the flowers or dropping them. The bouquet of roses was finally lowered to reveal a dark haired stranger standing hesitant at her door. Sharp features, a strong jaw, those shadows under the eyes and a rather sulking demeanor.

No, she realized all of a sudden. This was no stranger. She'd seen this face before. Not in person, but in pictures and conversations. A smile escaped her when she saw the sweater. And it was the sweater that sealed the deal.

Grey just like those hooded eyes.

The man gave her a curt nod, his shifty eyes scanning the room as he stepped in.

'I am…' he started to say before falling silent. He frowned as if searching for the right words to introduce himself.

Carla smiled at his hesitation.

'I know who you are,' she told him. 'Come in, please. He's told me so much about you.'

Nurse Robbins, being the thorough professional, decided to give them their privacy. She grabbed the knob and began to close the door. And that's when she heard a voice.

'Wait! Hold up! Coming through! COMING THROUGH!'

She let out a sigh in defeat when she saw Dennis the Menace rear his ugly head. Alright... not ugly, she amended. The boy had good looks and her staff of fawning RNs and AVNs could attest to his… what was the word again? oh yes… his sweltering good looks. The college student walked towards her, his arms holding up an obscene number of goodies: Belgian butter cookies, tarts, a bottle of malt, a book on 'The Garden Primer' and a bouquet of sunflowers to top it all off.

The young man beamed at her with a smile that ought to be sinful for 9 am in the morning. The vain little smile of a champion, basking in the glory that he was on time and not outside of visiting hours.

Nurse Robbins gave him the stiff upper lip.

'What do you think you're doing, Mr. Jaeger?' she asked, folding her arms over her chest defiantly.

Eren looked a little lost.

'What's wrong with what I'm doing?' he countered.

Nurse Robbins was giving his baggage a long, disproving look.

'Did you get these authorized? Because here at our hospital, diet is often considered part of the treatment plan, visitors may not bring food unless they've cleared it with the physician or attending nurse… which, in your case, peach cake, is ME.'

Eren stared at her in disbelief before letting out a low growl.

'You've got a grudge against me, don't you?'

 

 

 

 

 

They sat in silence. Levi with his hands clasped in front of him, his elbows pressed against his knees. He was aware of the woman's stare, painfully aware of being scrutinized and judged by the older woman. Carla had been throwing glances his way while she tucked the roses into a vase. The silence was daunting, and the former Vigilante was beginning to feel just a little… unnerved.

Armin, The Wise (Squeaky insisted on the name) had handed him yet another manifesto. But this one wasn't a chores list.

'Wiki's guide on how to impress your in-laws,' read the title.

Levi didn't know who Wiki was, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to get some advice.

One, dress casual.

Levi peered down at his sweater and his suede shoes… and knew instantly, he couldn't get more casual than this. With a nod to assure himself, he skimmed to the rest of the bullet points.

Two, be polite.

Levi guessed he had that covered, since there wasn't much talking going on anyway. Both he and Eren's mother were nowhere close to breaking the ice. He turned back to the guide, hoping Wiki had something better up his sleeve. So far the bloke was turning out to be as useful as Izzie's inn.

Three, do not be over-possessive of your partner in front of your in-laws.

He scoffed. Easy peasy, he grunted…. Considering the fact that his moron of a partner was still outside, struggling to get past customs. Trust Eren to screw up a simple smuggling op.

Four, do not try to sound like a hero, a genius, vain, cocky or otherwise.

That might be a little… difficult, he conceded and settled into a thoughtful silence.

Five, if all else fails, compliment the house, apartment, trailer… whatever they're in.

Levi looked around the hospital room and took the advice straight to heart. He nodded at Carla.

'Nice place you've got here,' he informed her.

His astute observation did not win Carla over like he'd expected. Instead, the pleasant smile on her face faded and a frown was quick to replace it. She watched him in strained silence, taken aback by what he'd just said.

'I'm in a psychiatric ward,' Carla Jaeger informed him, her thin eyebrows knit in concern.

Levi nodded with a grimace.

Right.

He was not getting the award for the Best Husband. Nor for the Best Son-in-Law.

Levi cleared his throat and decided to throw Armin, the Wise's manifesto out the window. He would have to rely on his instincts. He looked at Carla again, this time without any of his caution and hesitation. And he began reading her features for the first time.

The resemblance startled him up-close. The basics were eerily the same but the details were all wrong. Brown hair. The same face cut. But the eyes were remarkably different. Carla's uncanny resemblance to her son faded as she leaned in closer, much to Levi's discomfort. It was apparently her turn to study him. Her eyes came to rest on the sweater he was wearing and she smiled warmly.

'It's a good fit, I gather?' she asked.

Levi looked down at the woolen fabric and gave a faint nod.

'So it is…,' he admitted. 'No one's ever knit me anything before,' he said, surprised that he was actually confiding in her. He cleared his throat, his eyes turning shifty again. 'I guess I should thank you.'

To his surprise, the woman shook her head.

'No,' said Carla. 'I'm the one who should be thanking you.'

Levi met her gaze with a puzzled look.

Carla smiled and began to explain.

'You sent him back to me. You made sure he was safe and sound all these years. You were there when both Grisha and I failed him... so, yes, I should be the one thanking you.'

Levi folded his arms and looked down at his suede in silence.

'You didn't fail him,' he corrected her. 'Nothing bogs that brat down. And besides,' Levi paused and glanced up at her. 'The honor was all mine,' he said.

And he meant every word of it.

 

 

 

 

 

'HEADS UP!' Sasha yelled, as she sent the ball hurtling into the air.

'Yikes! It's gonna hit him! Oh man, it's gonna hit him!' Connie hollered from his end of the net.

'Eren!' they shouted in unison. 'Watch out! EREN!'

At the call of his name, the boy jolted awake. His eyes snapped open to find a beach ball falling from the heavens. Before he could comprehend where he was, what he was doing or why there was a ball sailing his way, his reflexes kicked in. The brunet covered his head and rolled to the side in the nick of time. The ball bounced over him and rolling to his right, it demolished a sand castle that Armin had been building painstakingly.

Silence hung in the air.

His best friend bobbed his head up over the sand ruins, looking shell-shocked at the devastation.

'Okay,' he announced, sounding peeved and angry. He picked up the ball and glared at those assembled. 'Who did this? Do you guys have any idea how long it took... to make this masterpiece? Huh? HUH?' he demanded, pointing an accusing finger at all of the assembled.

But no one owned up to the crime. Grinning, Connie Springer trekked to the boy. He took the beach ball from Armin's hands and quietly, returned to his game. Eren couldn't help but laugh at Armin's befuddled expression until the brunet noticed his own loss. The blanket next to him was empty... and it all came back to him.

After the debacle of the Calypso Queen tour, they'd tried another trip to the beach.

And guess what?

This time, they did reach the ocean.

Frowning at the empty blanket beside him, Eren looked around frantically. Connie and Sasha were playing beach ball. Jean and Marco were inspecting an old skiff washed up on the shoreline. Armin was still crying over his ruined sandcastle.

So, where was the other man?

Eren heard a sharp-pitched whistle.

He turned to see Jean climbing to the top of the skiff and enjoying the view from his elevated height. Dressed in Bermuda shorts and a tropical shirt, Eren's former partner-in-crime let out a smirk.

'If you're looking for Captain _Pokerface,'_ said Jean, pointing to the giant boulders at the end of the sand stretch. 'He went that way, y'know.'

Eren watched him in surprise before nodding in understanding.

'Th-Thanks, man. I owe you one,' acknowledged Eren before taking off on the sand.

Jean folded his arms as he watched Eren run for the boulders, the boy's running figure fading into the distance. He shook his head and let out a soft sigh. Marco joined him on the skiff, taking his seat at the edge of the old boat. The Titan untangled his legs from washed-up seaweeds and observed Jean from the corner of his eyes.

'That was a nice thing to do,' Marco said.

Jean rolled his eyes at his freckled companion.

'Hey, don't sound so surprised. I am a nice guy–'

His words were cut off when Marco leaned over to kiss him full on the lips. The abruptness of the move knocked the breath out of him. The demon Mephistopheles who'd for long been stirring Jean's pot of vile thoughts and grumbling away that he wasn't getting any action on his end, whooped loudly. Thankfully, Marco couldn't hear his inner demons. The visitor from the other world nodded with a smile as he pulled back.

'I see...' was all he said.

The ashbrown stared at him, as if Marco had sprouted another head. In his wealth of experience in the dating department, no one had ever kissed Jean Kirstein and passed it off with an 'I see'. Jean looked frankly very insulted.

'Huh?' was his eloquent response. 'I see? I SEE?!'

Marco smiled effervescently and scratched his chin in speculative thought.

'So that's what you Earthborns taste like. Interesting.'

Jean watched him agape.

'Wow, man. You're brutal.'

 

 

 

 

 

The light across the new land had begun to fade. If he strained hard enough, he could hear music over the sounds of the ocean. Island music, complete with ukuleles and banjos. There was the sound of laughter, which grew distant with every step. He resisted the urge to glance back at his footprints in the wet sand. There would be time for that. Levi climbed the cluster of rocks and gazed at the enchanting view before him. Blue, frothing waters as far as the eye could see. He filled his lungs with the scent of the ocean. When he tucked his hand into a pocket, he heard the soft tinkle of metal. Levi drew his hand out and unraveled the fingers.

There it was.

The key to Titan glinted against the setting sun.

He remembered the words of Grisha Jaeger.

 

 

And when you get there, toss it to the deepest trenches of oblivion.

 

 

He didn't stop to think twice about it. Before doubts could creep in, Levi pulled his arm back and looking at the vast blue ocean before him, he followed those last orders.

The ocean swallowed the key without complaint.

Levi nodded to himself, feeling at ease. He watched the waters come and go, the distant music drowning in the rumble of the ocean.

What now, he wondered. What was he going to do from here on?

Levi smiled to himself.

For once, he didn't have a plan.

With a resigned sigh, he turned to his drawstring pants, which were beginning to annoy him. Levi crouched and began rolling them up to his knees in the vain hope they'd remain up. Straightening to his full height, he watched the waves roll over the boulders again, bringing with them odd little souvenirs from its murky depths. Bottle caps, sea weed, a crab that looked half-surprised to have been uprooted from its realms and was scrambling to get back. And that's when he spotted something odd.

The waters receded, leaving a strange residue in the sands.

The sight perplexed him.

Levi climbed down from the boulders, careful of his stepping.

When he'd stepped on to the sand, he walked to the strange object lying supine on the beach.

He couldn't figure out what it was.

Neither could the droid dog, which had followed him over.

Both man and machine looked confounded.

The thing on the beach... was small, no bigger than his fist and when Levi prodded it with a stick, it squirmed like a jelly. Translucent jelly that seemed... alive. Krobe, remembering that it was supposed to be a dog, launched into a series of barks at the alien invader.

Levi pressed his hand over its snout to quieten it.

'Sshh,' he commanded in a low voice.

With a curious frown, Levi tossed away the stick and ventured to pick up the blob-like creature.

And that's when he heard it.

A familiar voice roared from the sands, and Levi heard footsteps racing to meet him.

'NOOOOOOOO!' hollered Eren, flailing his arms as he ran over. 'That's a jelly fish! Don't touch it! DON'T TOUCH IT!' the boy yelled as he ran towards Levi, bringing a sandstorm with him.

Before Levi could do so much as step back, the peacekeeper tackled him down into the sands violently. And in a way, so did the sea. The waves came without a warning, engulfing the two men in its jagged path. Water pooled all around them, drenching the two from head to toe. The cold pervaded their clothes, their skins and the older man could feel the wet ground slip from under him. Spewing salty water from his mouth, Levi sat up with a grunt, pulling Eren up by his elbow.

The drenched peacekeeper looked... just as surprised as Levi. He'd not expected the ocean to interrupt them either.

They watched the waters recede around them and glanced back at the dry patch of land that the ocean had left untouched. Krobe was looking dolefully at the carcass of what Eren had called... the big, bad jelly fish.

The brown haired keeper let out his pent-up breath. Still kneeling, he sat back on his heels with a slump of his shoulders and turned to Levi, surprised to find the older man smiling a crooked smile.

'What?' the boy asked. 'What's so funny?'

Levi kept his hold on Eren's elbow and tugged him closer. He favored Eren with a ghost of a smile.

'You know, trooper,' he said. 'If you wanted me that much, all you had to do was ask.'

Eren fell silent. Frowning, he lifted his hands and made a time-out gesture. 'Okay,' he began, 'We need some ground rules, buster. You can't go wandering off again,' the younger said and pointed to the strange carcass on the beach. 'That thing could have killed you, y'know.'

Levi looked towards the so-called jelly fish.

_Thump._

_Thump._

Their Rottweiler droid had begun pawing the jelly membrane as if testing Eren's theory.

'Right,' said Levi, whistling at Krobe to cut it out. 'I'm sure you saved me from the big, bad... uh, fish.'

The brunet scowled at him.

'Fine, it could have killed you if it were _alive.'_

'Right,' nodded Levi, though his smile said otherwise. He was clearly enjoying this repartee too much.

Eren leaned over and poked him in the chest.

'You know, you need to take me a lot more seriously, sir.'

'That so?' Levi asked, drawing closer.

'Yeah,' said Eren, watching the other man's movements guardedly. Levi had grabbed his hip and pulled himself up. 'Because this is my world, sir. And it's fraught with dangers everywhere you go. We, Earthborns, are not nice by nature. You can get mugged on the street. You can get pulled up at gun point. You might even get attacked by a killer jelly fish or a vicious grizzly bear. You're gonna need a guardian if you want to make it through. Someone who's got experience in this neck of the woods. Someone rough and tough!'

'Rough... and tough,' Levi repeated, making a sound of approval from the back of his throat. He stroked his thumb back and forth across the spot on Eren's hip where the tan line ought to be. The keeper had left his shirt unbuttoned nor tucked. Those khaki shorts looked good on the boy, now that he paid attention to it. Levi stared down at Eren's happy trail that disappeared down those shorts. He nodded in approval, grey eyes half lidded. 'Keep talking...' he urged in a husky voice. 'Keep talking.'

'Hey, I'm being serious here,' Eren complained, though a weak smile played at his lips. 'Are you even listening?'

Levi nodded in understanding and forced himself back to their conversation.

'So who is offering to be my guardian? You?' asked Levi, measuring Eren in a new light. He brought his arms up around the younger's shoulders and looked into those blue green eyes of Eren. 'Think you can protect me?' he challenged. 'Think you can save me from all the big, bad things of your world?'

Eren smiled sheepishly and lowered his head to let their lips connect.

'Damn right, I will. With all my body and soul,' he mumbled into the kiss. 'That sound like a square deal to you?'

Levi smiled and nipped him playfully on the lips.

'Deal.'

 

 

[FIN]

* * *

 


	106. Acknowledgements

  
Q&A

===============

 

1\. What happened to those on Titan?

It will be a struggle, but they've started the dialogue process with the State. The subpars would get their voices heard. Farlan and Isabel would continue fighting for their cause together. And I imagine, Farlan, at some point, would tell Isabel how he feels about her. Levi hinted about it around chapter 61, but with Magnum's death, it didn't seem like the right time for Farlan to pursue his affections. Isabel's daughter, Sol, would inherit #1263 when she grows up... and she'd probably hear all the wacky tales about her godfathers from their batty old neighbor- Mrs. Norman.

 

2\. Will Eren and Carla ever get their house back?

Yes, eventually. He's not the type to let something go. Especially a house with so many memories. I'm sure Eren would graduate out of college, work hard to get that house back. And I imagine he would, one day.

 

3\. Where would Eren work?

Probably he became a cool swanky engineer at NASA or SpaceX, bouncing ideas and driving everyone up the wall. He is the son of Dr. Jaeger and despite what people say, he is a smart chap and his love for the stars and the universe should take him in that direction. Same goes for Armin. Oh and Jean would probably follow after his father's footsteps and join the army as an intelligence officer.

 

4\. What happened to Annie? Did she give Carla the cure?

No, she didn't. The thing about Annie Leonhart is... you can reject 99% of the things that come out of her mouth. She wouldn't sell the cure; money doesn't interest her. If I were to predict, she'd probably find a way to slip the drug into research circles and let them figure out its constituents. All anonymously, of course. She'd have her methods.

 

5\. Why didn't Grisha give Carla the cure in all their meetings?

Carla has been ill for a long time. Her illness, unlike Bertolt's, cannot be blamed on Titan or the State. Administering the cure to her alone did not seem like an ethical choice on the part of Eren's father. And Eren realises this. There is no quick fix to one's problems. And at the point of his conversation with Annie, all he really wanted was to see his mother awake. He'd decided to accept her as she was.

 

6\. What are Marco and Levi going to do on Earth?

Marco would continue on as Dr Kirstein's assistant. I believe he would be charming as a dentist and might get his license too.

Levi...

Well, I think our dear Eren would put in a word to Hannes and help his husband get roped into law enforcement.

It would be the very bottom of the career rung, but I don't think Levi would complain. The Vigilante would go on to reign the community, only in a blue uniform this time.

 

7\. Are we done yet?

Yes, we are. :)

For the rest, I leave it to your imagination. Have fun.

 

 

 

Acknowledgements

=============

 

  
1\. Thanks to everyone who's made it this far. I'm not sure how you remained interested in this strange tale, but I must have done something right. So, in all honesty, thank you. I appreciate the fact that you took time out of your lives and decided to be part of their journey. My only regret is I wish I had thought of a better title for the story.

 

2.  
Thanks to these following people on FF.net who'd been very supportive through the first round of writing this story. I'll be forever indebted to you guys: SinGrin, HellSingDog, CrimsonTears, Pas d'Autres, Hibary-Hiwatari, Ko-Sensei, Riliana, Lady Portgas and Shakiranon. Thanks, Maru de Kusanagi for completing the Spanish Translation, sihaiya, Seasventura and firejiya, thanks for the warm messages. ZyonShigure, thank you for the constructive criticism. I've incorporated your suggestions this round (in case you ever see this). MyRoomSmellsLikeBooks and TheOrdinariest, thank you for always remembering.

Thanks to the new AO3 readers: Phoenix0610, Tammyiia, Destruction_Goddess, Epic_Panda_8D, MissMarilyns, Aesa, nemuru_tamashi, Heiara, sunflower, ironmaiden, aj, MandMandM, neewabo, BabyCitrine, Aesthetic_Writes_007, KurahieiritrJIO, aguantereri.

 

3\. If I haven't named you here, do forgive me. If you've dropped me a comment, rest assured I've read what you had to say and thank you wholeheartedly for the comment.

 

4\. <https://8tracks.com/blessende/sand-in-my-shoes>  
The SFL mixtape. :)

 

5\. You will find references from a host of other works: Watchmen, V for Vendetta, lot of poetry, Milton, Cowboy Bebop, Lord of the Rings etc etc. It's deliberate and a homage from my end.

 

6\. If you have a copy of the old version of this series, please replace it with this one. That's a humble request. I know I was late. (By 4 years!) but I've edited and brought SfL to a better shape than it used to be. But if you do find typos or sentence danglers anywhere, I apologize for the miss. Feel free to drop me a note, and I'll correct it.

 

7\. So, what makes a person come back after four years to undertake this herculean effort of editing a 400k story and reposting it? Well, I certainly hope I had sound reason (and a sound mind). Searching for Levi… wasn't meant to be fanfiction. If anything, it's a cross over with an original story. A story that never got written because it was too personal. And perhaps, SfL was a way of disassociating myself from that world. Once and for all, to finally say goodbye to it. That was the intention in 2014, true, but I always find myself coming back to this story. To the silliness, to the band of friends, to love and a longing for home. Plus, I could never watch Snk again after writing this. Because I can't bear to see these guys in another way.

Weird, huh?

Nevertheless, thanks again for reading. Hope you had fun. Drop me a note if you reached here. A 'Freddie was here' is fine too.

I'll be around. Maybe. :)

 

Regards,  
Blessende

 

* * *

 


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